Fighting Him

Choices

ALECTRA

I left early the next morning, despite my exhaustion. My sleep had been restless. The unnamed man had consumed my thoughts, I had to admit it was a welcome change compared to my normal ones of endless bills and worry. It hadn't helped my sleep though, his scent and the feel of his lips running along my neck were vividly seared into my memory. It also didn't help that my head was throbbing with a familiar migraine. I'm sure there are dark circles under my eyes.

Last night after I left the hospital I'd gone home to change into my fight gear before going to the underground, Tyler texted me the time the fights were being held at. He's the guy in charge of the 'ring', I wouldn't call him a friend, but we have an understanding, I earn him money, and he insures my protection. He's the only one that knows my identity, and that I'm a woman.

I dress as a man for my protection. Wrap my chest, and wear baggy fight gear. A hoody that covers my face and a wig and mask underneath in case it falls off in a fight.

You see, the underground is an extremely dangerous zone, filled with criminals. Not thieves, rapists, and killers, though there are a fair share of those. It's filled with highly intelligent criminals, drug lords and gang members, mafia, they all send representatives to the fights.

Making bets, letting their members fight. It's a place of honor, rivals agree to meet there, trades take place, unplanned fights break out, shady deals are made, and people are killed. It's neutral territory though. There's a level or respect, their are rules. And those that break them are terminated.

Without Tyler's protection, I'd be exposed and hurt for fighting there. I don't belong to a gang, I don't have an affiliation that gives me protection, and they wouldn't hesitate to remove me. I'm an enemy, an annoyance. I'm the mystery 'man' that fights, and I'm undefeated.

It hits a crime bosses pride when their best fighter can be beat up by a nobody. I hurt profits, and that makes me a target, but they wouldn't dare go against Tyler. He might not be a crime boss, but he has powerful connections, he's a man you don't want to be your enemy. I had to carve my path into the underground, but it was necessary. It's where I make the most money, and Daniels treatment is expensive.

A single round of chemotherapy can cost upwards of $200,000. And this is his 3rd round. He was diagnosed with Luekemia at the age of six. And now I'm in major debt, I had to beg the banks to give me a loan for his treatments and they only kept giving me more money because I'm good at paying it back. Each fight I do earns me anywhere from $5,000 to $25,000 depending on my opponent. They don't ask questions and it works for me.

All the money from my fights goes to paying for his treatment, and hospital care, and anything I have left goes into my savings account. That savings account will be my savior some day.

Other than my fights, I work as a waitress at Maria's Diner. She's a nice middle aged lady that hired my sorry ass when I came around begging for a job right after my parents died. In order to get full custody of my little brother I had to prove to the government that I could take care of him.

Her diner is where I learned to fake my personality. In high school I was what some people would call a bad ass. I didn't take crap from bitches, I was mouthy, and sarcastic, but I got good grades. So they didn't suspend me when I got in fights. I had an art scholarship to The New York School of Visual Arts. I'd been planning on going there my whole life and then my life fell apart. When my mom died, and I all of a sudden had to raise my toddler little brother, and the weight of the world was on my shoulders.

I'd realized quickly that being myself wasn't an option. I was too brass, witty, rude, blatant. People rejected that. So I became this fake smiley person. I didn't fake the warmth all the time, sometimes it was genuine. But I lost a part of myself that day, and I couldn't let anyone see that I was struggling, so I smiled. And I'm still smiling.