Fight Like A Girl

by A. D. Herrick

  I knew by the look of these men, Marco was in deep, deeper than he had ever been; either that or he was scraping the bottom of the barrel. The men were all unkempt, their hair unruly, some showcasing thick wiry beards, their clothing tattered, having seen better days. All of them wore a similar black leather vest, their MC patch proudly displayed for all to see. But it wasn’t their attire that had my blood running cold in my veins; it was the flat dead stare in which they graced upon me.

  “Why don't you come on over here and let me introduce you to my new friends.” He called out giggling as though he had made a joke to which only he knew the punch line.

  Dropping my hand from my face I flashed him a false smile and shook my head. “Sorry, bro. I’ve had a long night at the gym. I just wanna head up to my room and crash out. But it was nice to meet you guys.”

  The mention of the gym caused Marco’ eyes to narrow. His lip curled up in a menacing scowl. “I don't know why you bother going to that dump. He’ll never want you.”

  The men around him just laughed oblivious to the humiliation boiling under my skin. I didn’t show it though. Any display of emotion would do me no good. Not here. Not while Marco was in one of his moods.

  I just shrugged letting his words roll off me. I tried to tell myself I didn’t care what he thought. But that didn’t take the sting out of his words. His honest words hurt, striking my tender heart without mercy.

  I tried to remind myself that Chaos was just a friend. Granted, a sexy, pantie melting, beast of a friend, but a friend nonetheless. I knew there would be nothing more between us. Marco’s ruthless reminder did nothing to ease my already fractured emotions.

  I was far too damaged to be disillusioned at seeing Chaos as anything else. I would only be setting myself up for heartbreak. I could never be the woman he needed. Chaos deserved perfection, someone not damaged by the sins of her past. Someone damaged like me. Marco’s reminder was a slap in the face.

  Marco’ eyes narrowed further, his eyes cold and calculating. Clearly, he was itching for a fight and I had not taken the bait like he’d expected. He’d wanted to rile me up. His eyes begging for me to say something. My stomach drew tight, fear rising in the back of my throat. I stayed silent.

  “Why do you go there? You thinking about getting in the ring?” He sneered, a slimy smile spreading across his face. The men around his tittered with laughter. Clearly, I had missed the joke.

  “I don’t fight and you know it.” My statement only caused the men to laugh harder. They sounded like a pack of hyenas.

  “What’s the matter G? Are you scared? It’s not my fault you fight like a girl.” His words were like ice water down my spine. The shock of them hit me like a ton of bricks to the solar plexus. Refusing to give in and let him see how his harsh words affected me, I ignored him. I bit back the blinding tears that threatened to spill down my cheeks.

  There was no sense in arguing when he was like this. The best thing I could do was leave. I knew that once I was out of his sights he would forget all about me. I just needed to get away.

  “I’m just going to head on up to bed. You boys have a nice night.” I managed to choke out, waving my fingers at the laughing crowd. I jogged to the stairs leading to the second floor, their laughter following me up the landing.

  “You fight like a girl, G.” Marco continued to shout, his voice reverberating off the thin walls of our small Tudor house.

  Once in my room I securely shut the door behind me, flipping the lock as I went. Safely tucked away from on looking eyes, my body sank to the floor as tears washed down my face. I knew he had only said it because he was drunk and high, but it didn’t make the words any less painful.

  Marco knew how much those words hurt. That was his intent. Pinching my eyes closed I wrapped my arms around my knees gently rocking myself.

  Flashes of memories danced behind my eyes in an onslaught of horror. My father standing over me, taunting me as he rained down blows to my body.

  “Come at me, Ginger. Come here and lay one on me. Get off your ass. Just look at you. You can’t do it, can you? You little pussy. You fight like a girl.” I remembered the pain as if it happened yesterday. The scars still marred my body, forever reminding me of my tortured past. With every punch and kick he pelted down at me he punctuated them all with the same words. “You fight like a girl.”

  My father had been gone for three years and still, his memory haunted me.

  Marco knew that. Marco knew what it felt like to be on the receiving end of one of our father’s drug-induced beatings, and yet he didn’t care.

  He branded the words as a weapon, striking with ease. The more I tried to deny it, the more it was true. Marco was changing. Every day he became more and more like him, like our father. Last night had been just a fluke. A one-off. The hope that had started to blossom in my chest had been crushed, obliterated. Taking a part of me with it.

  I didn’t know how much more I could take. I had tried saving him. God knows I’ve tried. But it was getting harder and harder to take. I was beginning to think there would be no redemption in his future.

  Marco was running with a new crowd, a new set of friends with deeper ties to the underworld. He was becoming our father right before my eyes. What started out as small-time drug dealing had grown into a full enterprise he was running out of the house.

  I knew I needed to get out. I needed to run as far away as I could possibly get before he took me down with him. It was time to leave Marco on his own. As much as I hated to admit it, I couldn't save us both.

  My world was crumbling, changing faster than my mind could keep up. I needed more. I felt like I was drowning, reaching desperately for a lifeboat, anything that would save me. Instead, I found only darkness.

  Chapter Eight

  Chaos

  I didn't feel right about letting G go home alone, but I had no choice. Strong willed as she was, she refused to let me talk her into a ride, let alone staying at the gym. It was the one place I knew she would be safe, the only place I could promise her security. Yet she wouldn’t let me give it to her. She was as stubborn and hardheaded as they come.

  There had been a lot of noise surrounding Marco and another new club taking up real estate in town. That’s just what the Folds needed, another MC. I felt like I was battling a Hydra. For every head I cut off, three more grew in their place. It was getting old. This whole lifestyle was getting old. I needed to make my move soon. I couldn’t keep doing this. I had just one more promise to fulfill and I would be done, finished.

  Word on the street said the new MC had ties in a lot of unsavory rings, drugs, weapons, fighting, and trafficking. I had no idea why so many clubs were trying to force their way into our town. Unlike Grim Howlers, these guys had a reputation for being ruthless. The Hunters were serious business. They had a reputation for being deadly. I only hoped the rumors were false.

  It wasn't uncommon for an MC to run more than one operation. What had me on edge was how fast their numbers had grown in the area and the whispers that Marco, G’s brother, had somehow gotten into the mix. I was willing to bet anything, these groups weren’t coming for the ambiance of the Fold; they were coming for Marco, only I didn’t know why.

  Marco was a street thug, overlooked by the local clubs because of his erratic and unpredictable nature, making me look like a saint in comparison. He had big dreams. Much like his father. I only hoped he didn't meet the same end. I would kill him before I let him take G down with him. There was no mistaking where my loyalties lie. They were and always would be with G. Brother or not, I would take him out.

  Restless, I pulled out my phone and made the one call needed to ensure G’s safety.

  “Give me all you got on The Hunters,” I spoke into the receiver.

  “No hello? Fuck you? Go to hell?”

  “Hello. Fuck you. Go to hell. Now give me the intel.”

  “If I didn’t know any better I’d say your Mamá didn’t raise you right.”

  “Say one
more word about my Mamá and it will be your last.”

  “You’re a bit touchy for a man needing info.”

  “Yeah? And you’re a bit daft for a man about to meet his end if he doesn’t start talking.”

  “Calm the fuck down while I dig up the intel. Why are we looking into the Hunters anyway?”

  “G mentioned that Marco made some new friends and they have been making her uncomfortable. It’s unacceptable.”

  “So you finally got off your ass and made her yours?”

  “That’s none of your damn business.”

  “You always have been a bit of an ass and I’ll take that as a no. Pussy.”

  “Just give me what I need to know. I don’t have all day.”

  “I’ll call you back after I get a bit more on them. I’m going to ring Drake.”

  “Fine. Don’t take long.”

  Hanging up the phone I let out a long sigh, releasing all the built-up tension of the night. I wondered if there would ever be a day when things like this wouldn’t have to happen. Glancing around the empty gym, I knew better. The Fold would always be the same. Places like this didn’t change, only the faces of the tortured souls with no way to escape.

  Lifting the receiver I made one last call, a call that had been long overdue.

  “I’ll do it.”

  “When?”

  “Soon.”

  I quickly hung up the phone before I could change my mind.

  Chapter Nine

  Ginger

  The house was eerily quiet the next morning. I wasn't sure how long the party had lasted but I imagine it went on all night. I had fallen asleep to the sound of music thumping the walls and raucous laughter that spilled through the small house. Marco and his friends were living it up completely unbothered by the world around them.

  I was woken in the middle of the night to the sound of something thudding against my bedroom door. The sound of wood splintering had me acting on instinct; I leaped from the bed and rushed to slide my chest of drawers in front of the quivering door.

  After securing the door from the would-be intruder I grabbed my phone and Glock and hid in the back of the closet behind the hot water heater.

  It had been the safest hiding spot when I was a kid and our father came home in one of his moods. It had saved me so many times before. I only hoped it would save me again. Once hidden, I slipped my headphones over my ears to block out the noise, shrouding myself in false security.

  I waited patiently, my heart slamming against my chest as I strained against the music pounding through my headphones for any sign of an intruder. I was too afraid to remove the headphones from my ears. Too afraid of what I might hear.

  Panic hung heavy in my throat nearly choking me.

  There was nothing.

  No sound of banging on the door.

  No sign that someone had entered the room.

  I swallowed the lump that had been lodged in my throat.

  Afraid to move, I settled in for the night, unwilling to budge from the safety and protection of my childhood hiding spot.

  At some point in the early morning hours, I had finally dozed off, crouched tightly in a ball at the back of my closet. If anyone else tried to get in the room I wasn’t aware. The dresser I placed in front of the door still stood, acting as a guard, when I finally made my way out of the tight hiding spot the next morning.

  No one should have to live like this.

  I shouldn’t have to live like this.

  I knew it with every fiber of my being. Last night had been my last night in this house. Nothing in this world could convince me to stay. There was no amount of love for my brother that would keep me here. Last night was the last straw.

  I dressed quickly, unwilling to hang around any longer than necessary. I rushed to tug on a comfortable pair of loose-fitting faded blue jeans and a thin black cotton tank top, slipping my feet into my black Converse sans any socks. I pulled my hair back into a high ponytail and tucked my Glock 27 into the back of my jeans and my phone in my back pocket. I dressed quickly, not worrying about applying any makeup or jewelry. I could come back for those things at some point, but not today.

  With the comfort of my Glock at my back, I took a deep breath, gathering my confidence around me like a coat of armor, readying myself to leave.

  My Glock was small but mighty, its lightweight design slender grip fits perfectly in the palm of my hand as though it were made for me. Knowing Chaos, it probably was. It was, after all, a gift from him, one I never thought I would have to use.

  While I wasn't a big fan of guns, the guys from last night proved that I wasn't safe in my own home. Again, Chaos had been right, correctly predicting my need for the subcompact pistol.

  Cautiously, I slid the heavy chest of drawers out of the way, wincing as it groaned in annoyance. With a tentative hand, I gradually opened the bedroom door. Poking my head out of the room I glanced up and down the hallway. Nothing. I felt the warm grip of relief relaxing in my chest but I refused to allow it to settle. Not until I was out. Only then would I breathe easy.

  Holding my breath I eased the door closed behind me as I crept down the hall to the stairs. Pausing in my escape I strained my ears for any sound of movement. Silence. It was nearly deafening. I had expected my ears to be met with the hammering sound of Marco’s snores that usually followed after a long night of partying, but I heard none.

  The relief in my chest began to grow at the prospect of Marco being out. Sending up a silent prayer I hope for it to be true. I hoped for it to be that easy, that my brother and his friends had taken off after partying the night away.

  I continued on, gently taking the steps one at a time as I moved down the stairs toward the main floor, my back pressed firmly against the wall.

  The soft clicking of the air conditioner switching on had my heart pounding in my chest. The metallic bite of fear coated the back of my tongue. My hand immediately went to my back, feeling the cool piece of steel, ready when I needed it. It provided a margin of comfort.

  I checked up and down the stairs as though I were preparing to cross the street, before chancing a glance over the banister. Peering over the railing my heart lurched in my chest. A guttural scream ripped from my lungs dropping me to my knees.

  I clung to the wooden bars on the banister, like a prisoner trapped in their worst nightmare. My eyes roved the scene before me unable to look away.

  Blood, so much blood.

  It was everywhere. Not a speck of cream carpet could be seen. The walls dripped with it like splattered paint. Bodies of the men from last night lay sprawled out, eyes wide open, unseeing.

  In the middle of it, all lay Marco. His throat had been sliced open from ear to ear. A long thick blade impaled his chest as he sat slouched against the wall.

  Fumbling for my phone, I dialed. My fingers working on autopilot as I typed in the number forever programmed in my memory. My eyes never wavered from the gory scene before me.

  “G, what is it? What’s wrong?” His voice came over the line deep and gravely due to sleep.

  “Chaz, I need you.”

  “What is it, Baby? Talk to me. I’m on my way. Tell me what’s going on.”

  “Dead. They’re all dead.” The words came out in a garbled whisper as I struggled to hang onto my sanity. Like a train wreck, I couldn’t look away. Words spilled out of my mouth like vomit. I wasn’t even sure if they made sense.

  “Where are you, G? I’m on my way.” Panic strained his voice clashing with the sound of him moving around.

  “Home. I’m at home. I need you, Chaz. There’s so much blood.” I bawled into the receiver. One hand gripped the railing in a white-knuckle hold while the other clung desperately to the phone.

  “I need you, Chaz,” I repeated, meaning it just as much now as I did the first time.

  I didn’t care how it sounded. I didn’t care how weak or desperate it made me look. I only cared that he came. I only cared that he would make it all go away. My eyes and at
tention lay focused on the bloody scene before me, unable to look away. Unable to unsee the horror before me.

  Unable to close my eyes.

  “I’m coming, baby. Just hold tight. I’m almost there.” His fear was palpable through the line stealing my breath.

  Almost there? How long had I been on the phone? Five minutes? Ten? Time was irrelevant, seeming to have stood still.

  “They killed him. They killed all of them.” The words repeated like a mantra, spilling from my mouth.

  My brother.

  Those men.

  They all lay dead before me.

  I could hear Chaos talking but I couldn’t understand the words. He sounded like he was in a tunnel, so far away. All I could do was see. The blood. The destruction. So many lives lost.

  The soft rhythmic cadence of Chaos’s voice kept me from completely losing my mind. It kept me from screaming my head off and gouging my eyes out to escape the bloody scene before me.

  My brother’s face would forever be seared into my memory. Not his boyish face that smiled down at me, the one that fed me pizza just two nights ago. Not the face of the boy I grew up with.

  The boy I loved.

  But the slackened pale face that stared up at me now with unseeing eyes. The face twisted into a look of horror as though he knew it was over. Like he was living the torture all over again and would be for the rest of eternity. My heart broke all over for him.

  I was alone in this world.

  Utterly and truly alone.

  My brother had been my only living family and now he was gone. As much as I hated my brother I still loved him. I loved him with every ounce of my heart and soul. He was my brother. My blood. Despite all his flaws, he was my family. My heart felt hollow. A deep aching filled my chest as red-hot tears poured from my eyes, slithering down my cheek. I was too broken to care.