The Devil Of District 7

Chapter {3}

SAM

My bed is too comfortable. I can't move if wanted to anyway. My stomach is still seriously sore from the violent interaction it had with Puncher girl's fist this afternoon.

"Sam, what the fuck did you do- Ow! Why'd you do that Ma?"

"How many times do I have to tell you Timothy? Language!"

I laugh as my brother grunts in response and mumbles something I don't quite catch under his breath. The little fucker deserves it though, he gets away with pretty much every crap he pulled.

The sound someone of climbing up the stairs gets me out of my thoughts and Tim soon appeares at my door. "As I saying-"

"More like screaming." He gives me a blank look, annoyed that I have interrupted him.

"Yeah anyway, as I was saying before I got rudely interrupted by our mother and followed by you. Where'd you put the PS4? I can't find it in my room and I know how jealous of me you were about it, so spit it out."

I roll my eyes at his exaggeration - I can't possibly care less about his stupid video games - and reajust myself on my bed, wincing when my bruise kindly reminds me of its presence, my god the girl has strength.

"Who says it was me who moved it? Apart from your lame and false accusation, you have no proof, dipshit."

"Because you're the big brother and it's well known that the last sibling is always the victim of stupid pranks like this one. And you're annoying."

I put a hand on my chest, mocking shock. "Well think again my dear little brother because, yes, I was the one who moved your precious metal box," I hold my hand when I see that he is about to cut me off rudely like he always does, "It was all Mom's idea, I was just being a good boy." I pause again. "And if you decided to open your shitty little eyes, you'd see with no problem that it's currently seating nicely next to the TV."

I don't even have time to blink before Tim bolts out of my room and runs loudly down the stairs. Sounds of virtual guns and yells soon followed his departure.

I sigh, starting to worry about my brother's non existent maturity and take my duffle bag with my sports clothes inside.

I have to go to the gym, Dylan and I have planned earlier today to meet there and push a little weight together. Teddy works there as a coach for seniors so no doubt he'll be there.

I lift my tee-shirt and glance down at my stomach. Yep, the nasty blue bruise left by Puncher girl was still there, pretty sure I felt a bump there too. Is that even possible?

My phone beeps, showing an Instagram notification. Some girl tagged me and what seems like hundred others on a selfie of herself. The caption is some dumb quote about all of us being friends or something, a load of crap. I don't even know the chick.

I yawn boringly and am about to log out when an idea strikes in my head. Is Puncher girl on Instagram?

It may seem creepy because I hardly know her but I am curious, does this mystery from the seventh district have any social life?

Not believing it for a second, I look for the username: '@Punchergirl' and to my surprise there is a single result.

The profile picture shows a graffiti on a brick wall with a black converse in front of it. It had a yellow and red stain. No doubt about account's owner, it is her.

She must've been clumsy again in the week to paint a fragment of her shoe red.

I scroll through the profile, the photos are all of good quality but none showed her face or someone else's. They were all pictures of graffitis, shots of the city or people with their backs to me.