I stared at the girl in front of me.
Long black hair. Dyed pink at the tips. Greenish eyes. About 5"3-5"4. Skinny.
Like a twig.
She looked weak, too weak to be fighting.
Illegally.
I need the money, I thought, punch her.
I noticed she was blocking her face. Leaving her stomach exposed. I easily punched her stomach, and with her distracted, I punched her nose.
I heard a crack.
I wince.
That didn't sound good at all.
I kicked her leg making her fall. I then straddled her and kept punching her.
"I g-give u-u-up" she croaked, coughing up blood. I cringed and looked away.
I stood up and looked around at the crowd. Most of them had tattoos and piercings.
A guy held my hand up and shouted, "we have a winner, Scar Dale!" The crowd went wild. I smiled as I was handed my cash prize.
350$.
"Thanks" I said proudly and I walked out of there.
I went to my motorcycle. It had pink flames on the side. Pretty sweet.
I straddled it and turned on the engine. I rode to my house.
I parked it in the drive way and went to the front door. I grabbed the handle and turn it.
Unlocked.
As always.
I walked into the kitchen, hoping to find no one.
But luck is never on my side, my drunk mother is standing by the fridge with a beer bottle. No difference there.
"Oh look! My slut of a daughter" she slurred. "Where were you? Oh wait let me guess, at a club banging every guy you see."
I showed her the money I made "no, actually, I was making money, you know, which is supposed to be your job. " I stated. I left the kitchen and ran to my bedroom.
I slammed the door and leaned against it. I groaned in frustration.
My room was white. With little paintings hanging around.
I walked to my dresser and grab a picture of my family. I was 9 and we were at Disneyland. I ran my fingers over it, feeling empty.
I stopped on my dad.
Tears filled my eyes. Blurring my vision. I looked at the clock.
1:34 am.
I don't even change into pjs. I just layed down on my bed thinking about how happy my family was.
We used to be a normal family.
A normal family. One without a drunken mother, one without a sick brother, one where I don't pay the bills. A dead father. A happy family.
But I guess in my world, happy families don't exist.
Life sucks.
-The next morning-
I woke up at 1:27 pm. I rub my eyes while stretching.
I grabbed my phone off of my side table and checked any text messages.
2 unread messages.
I opened them up. One was from the announcer guy telling me when the next fight is and another from my best friend, Brittany.
From: Brit
Hey, can you tell me what the answer is for math, number 8?
To: Brit
2769. It was so easy!
From: Brit
I'm not a nerd!
To: Brit
Whateves!
I never got a reply but I can just imagine her rolling her eyes.
I took a quick shower and changed into high waisted shorts, and a loose crop top.
Thank goodness today's Saturday. No school. And I can let my bruises heal.
I will probably have to practice for the girl fighting championship, I won the last 2 years.
The prize money is 1000$.
I started fighting at age 15, when my dad died, when my brother became sick and when my mom was drunk every night.
You could say I was pretty strong after practicing for 3 years.
I grabbed my gym bag and drove on my motorcycle to the gym.
When I got there, I parked and walked to the door. And right when I opened the door I was in a group hug.
Consisting very strong men.
"I'm dying!" I screamed "help, I can't breath!" Every laughed and let go.
I pretended to catch my breath.
"Alex! Drake! Freddy my bro!" I hugged all of them, skipping one on purpose.
"Scarlett." I heard the one voice I was hoping not to ever hear again.
I turn around and come face to face with my ex-boyfriend.
-------------
Oooooooh ex drama!
So I hope you enjoy my first book.
I won't be able to update very often, there's something called school.
More like a prison.
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_turtledove_
YOU ARE READING
The Kiss Game
Teen FictionScarlett Dale. What you'd call shy, nerdy, no-social-skill.... All lies. Some might say she spends her Friday nights studying, doing homework. They're wrong. She spends her Friday nights, at a fight club. Fighting. No one knows. Well, until sh...