Clichéd? ON HOLD

Chapter 1- Background

Ashley's POV

"You were amazing! That Jodan-Kekomi needs a little work though. Just straighten out your right leg. Other than that, it was perfect!" Brandon, my best friend exclaimed. A Jodan-Kekomi is a thrust kick to face. It actually looks better than it sounds.

"Thanks! You weren't so bad yourself. Remember to stay focus though. But I gotta say, your fight was better than mine."

I'm Ashley Carmen Edwards. Famous Fighter A.C.E.. I use my first, middle, and last initials  to create my street fighter name. However, my best friend uses his middle name. Brandon Kayden Smith, famous street fighter Kayden. We change our looks slightly when we aren't fighting so we're not noticed as a fighter. When you get involved in street fighting, you tend to make enemies. And we are trying to stay alive.

Brandon is a better fighter than me. He was the one who trained me 6 years ago when we were 11 years old.

-flashback-

"Harder! Put more power behind your punch!." My dad yells at me. He sighs. "Fine. we'll work on that later. Since you can't seem to do anything right, run. Run 15 laps around the gym. GO! NOW!" I immediately start running. my dad was a fighter. Not a famous one, just like every other fighter. He never became famous like he wanted to, so now he wants one of his children to fulfill his dream. Me being the eldest child, I get to have the wonderful training from him. Note the sarcasm. There are two other children in the family though. My younger brothers, Luke and Matthew. They are wo-year-old twins. I do this for them. When practices go well, our dad acts, well normal. Like a regular, caring dad should. However if practice goes like today, terribly, he completely shut everyone out for like a week. We don't even g to practice during that time.

We use to train everyday, but one time a few weeks ago when 'I screwed up' -his words, not mine- he yelled at me for not trying hard enough. That's when we didn't train for a week and that's when he started the on/off training. Although I know, this is the worst practice ever.

-Flashback interrupted-

That's when he ignored us for good. Sure there is the occasional word, but only whe he comes home drunk. Other than that, he doesn't talk to us, thanks to me. Note the sarcasm again. Anyways...

-Flashback continued-

I was so lost in my thoughts, I didn't realize I'm on my last lap. I finished my laps and take a drink of water.

"Ashley! 75 sit-ups and push ups. After that, get in the ring!"

I finished the sit-ups and push-ups, and he reviews what I should do in this practice fight. Yet I can't live up to his standards. I haven't trained in a week, so my training isn't where it should be. I wonder whose fault is that. Cue the eye roll and sarcasm. I always worry about how my trainings will  affect my dad's mood. And right now, I don't think this will end well.

"Lift your hands higher! Keep your chin up! Don't lose your focus! Come on!" He kept yelling at me, while I'm practicing with one of my dad's friend's son. We are fighting while my dad tells-yells at me for what I'm doing wrong. Once again, I lost the practice fight.

"Why can't you do anything right!" He started yelling at me once he dismissed my opponent, who already left.

"I don't need to waste my time doing something useless! I won't waste it anymore on you or my siblings since they probably will fail like you! You can't be a famous fighter, much less an actual fighter in general! You're just a GIRL!" He sneered at me, I'm only 11 years-old. What more does he expect? After his rant, he storms out saying he quits. With tears welled up in my eyes, I slide down the nearest walls, trying to control my tears. What 11 year-old tries to stop before crying? I was taught at a young age to wipe my face of emotions. Courtesy of my dad. However, I'm not very good at it. I struggle with anger and melancholy. I probably won't ever be able to control my anger emotion though. From getting yelled at, I completely forgot someone else also was in the gym until I heard a voice and footsteps.