Femme Fight Club

One.

"Get up, Grey! Get your ass up!" I could hear Amber yelling at me as I took another blow from a girl who was here for her third time. She had about thirty pounds on me, and had me pinned down.

I was able to pull one of my arms out from under her knee and took a swing at her jaw, knocking her to the floor. She hit the concrete with a thud, I was able to collect myself enough to stand up and give her a few kicks to the ribs before Amber ended the fight.

"Enough, enough!" Amber yelled, two other girls pulling me away from my opponent. My nose drizzled blood, and my shoulder was radiating pain after pulling it from underneath her. I would definitely have to get it looked at by a doctor.

"Alright, quiet, ladies!" Amber calmed the excited girls to get their attention. Their chanting ceased at the command of their club leader.

"We had some good fights tonight, girls. To you newcomers, I hope we didn't scare you off. Your homework for the week is to steal as many wallets as you can. We're looking for cash, not credit cards. They're too easily traced. We gotta get some money if we're gonna upgrade from this basement. Do whatever it takes." She announced to the crowd before excusing them to leave.

The ladies all filed up the stairs and out of the abandoned house, leaving Amber and myself alone in the dimly lit, musty basement. The place was filled with mildew and the pipes above our heads were rusted and leaking. She was right about needing to find a new place for our club.

Most of the fight clubs started out in abandoned houses, though.

The only thing different about ours is that we happen to be the only female fight club.

I met Amber when I tried to enter a fight club in Palo Alto but was kicked to the curb because they refused to let me in since I was a female. She was also turned away that night.

We bonded over a smoke and talked philosophically about the concept of fighting and its inner release. We hit it off pretty quickly and agreed to hang out again. That was the night we decided to start our own club. We knew if they wouldn't accept us, we'd have to accept ourselves. And that's what we did.

Femme Fight Club.

The only female fight club on the west coast.

We started out with only 5 girls including Amber and myself, but we eventually grew. It now ranged from 25-30  girls every weekend in the abandoned house lost to foreclosure on the corner of Cadence Street and Cooke Avenue.

And I had never felt as alive as I did there.

"Shit, my arm is killing me, Amber." I winced as I tried to shrug my shoulder, but it wouldn't move. She untied her black hair from its ponytail and wrapped the rubber band around her wrist before examining my shoulder.

"Yeah, that's definitely been pulled out of the socket. C'mon, I'll drive you to the hospital and they can relocate it for you." She insisted, turning towards the stairs.

I followed her up after grabbing my jacket. I put my good arm through one sleeve, but just settled the other sleeve on the shoulder of my bad arm.

It was normal for us to go to the hospital at this point. I've been enough times after fights, that I could compile a book of lies I've told the ER workers. They always question what happened when you show up with a busted chin or broken nose. I could lie like it was my first language.

"What happened this time?" An ER nurse, who had stitched up my knuckles 3 times in the past, asked. She recognized me like the back of her hand. I had been in here so many times.

"Fell down the stairs and tried to catch myself. I think I dislocated my shoulder." I lied, shrugging my jacket off and plopping down in the open room with many examination tables. There were a lot of people in the ER tonight, but one in particular caught my eye.