The Bullet

Short Story

It’s a Friday afternoon and I’ve just come back to my apartment from buying groceries when I hear Mary arrive.

“I’m home!” She announces.

“Thank god. I thought something bad had happened to you” I said.

“You worry too much sis’. I’m fine. Really.” She reassured.

“Okay. I’m just looking out for you since our alcoholic of a mother can’t seem to care for anything but her drink.”

I’m greeted by silence. We both know it’s true. She’s been like this for the past year, ever since our “dad” up and left us in the middle of the night. Some dad he was.

“Well I’m going to start my homework.” She says breaking the silence that had enveloped us.

“Okay, good luck with that.” I respond and with that she goes to our room.

Mary is my 14 year old sister. We live in a two room apartment in the run down side of New York seeing as this is all I could afford with the money I made from my job. My income comes through underground fighting, which is dangerous. I see many gruesome injuries happen in the span of a week. The money from the bets on my fights go to me when I win, which I always do. The call me “The Bullet” because I’m one of the fastest fighters there are. My real name is Jane Rodriguez and I’m 18 years old. I started kickboxing and martial arts at the age of 12 because of  my anger issues. Now I rely on those skills to be able to pay for the bills.

I lost most care and respect for my mother within the last year. It’s like she forgot we ever existed; her own daughters that live in the same place as her. She’s young, just 37, and she’s wasting her life moping after a man who was just full of lies and disappointment. I try to talk sense into her but she’s always drunk so she doesn’t remember. I can’t even remember the last time I saw her sober.

“Hey Jane?” Mary called sounding uneasy.

“Yeah” I call back.

“Can you come here?” She responded with the uneasiness still in her voice.

I enter our room to see her sitting indian style on her bed while looking at her phone wearily.

“Look” She says once she sees me.

I glance at the phone. On the screen was a text from an unknown number  that said “Your sister is lying to you.” Attached to it was a video of one of my famous fights. It’s time for me to tell her.

“Mary, listen. You know how I leave to work on Friday and Saturday night?” She nods her head. “Well this is my job.” I say signaling towards the video.

Mary plays the video. Her face holds many emotions. Shock and fear are the only ones I could decipher.

“How could you not tell me this?” She questioned in a weak voice.

“You’re fighting a grown man who looks like the hulk! You could’ve gotten injured!” She looks frightened because of the idea.

“You’re all I have left. I can’t lose you. You need to stop fighting.” She demands.

“Don’t you think I’ve thought of that? Every time before I fight I think of how one day it will cost me my life. The things that stop me from quitting fighting is so that I can have enough money to support you and give you what you want and the fact that I’m in far too deep to just give it up. So no. I won’t stop fighting.” I snap, though I immediately feel guilty afterwards.

She storms out of the apartment. I let her leave since a lot just happened and she’ll need time to process it. Besides, she has her phone with her. I hear my phone ring and answer it without looking at the caller I.D.