A warm liquid dripped down my eyebrow, leaking into my eye. I panted, sucking in sharp breaths of frozen air. The cold burned my windpipe, blowing on the fiery hatred swelling in my chest. My vision went red, either from anger or from the blood.
I swiped the blood from my eyes, and swung wildly at the man in front of me. He wore nothing but a pair of basketball shorts, leaving his body exposed to my attacks. I couldn't judge him much for that, I wore a similar tattered pair. But at least I wrapped my hands, this dumb Fucker didn't. His knuckles cracked, dripping blood. I could see the pink hues of a building bruise.
His icy blue eyes smirked as he ducked underneath each blow. Don always told me my technique was reckless and stupid. I didn't give a fuck. If my body wasn't aching by the end of a fight then it wasn't worth it. Without bruises a fight was nothing more than a petty scrape. Besides, the pain was half the release.
He got cocky, and lazy with his sidesteps. While attempting to duck to the left, my fingers pinched the loose blonde hair swinging wildly from his scalp. I pulled and lifted my knee at the same time.
Crunch!
Screams and cheers roared through the rickety barn. The tables beneath me wobbled with each booming step I took. They'd nailed the legs into the flooring, and yet, it still couldn't handle me pissed. I wasn't heavy, just angry.
Hands lurched through the ropes, pounding on the rickety tables. I ignored every cheer, scream, and boo. Ragged faces stared at me from a couple of feet below, contorting in excitement. Everyone was waiting for a show, one I had every intention of giving them.
His nose wiggled when he tried to moving it. Blood spilled through his nostrils, coating his pale lips pink. I cringed at the sight of his disfigured nose. That's gotta hurt like a Bitch.
"Tap out." I growled, bringing his head closer to mine.
He groaned, his eyes wincing at the swinging lights above us. They steadied on me, as firm as Iron "You know I won't do that Ace." He mumbled.
My hand touched the top of his head in approval. "Tough as Iron."
"Strong as nails." His Russian accent slurred. And he braced himself.
Then I grabbed his scalp and brought his face to meet my fists.
Over.
And over.
And over.
The whistle blew. Hands grabbed my biceps, flinging me backwards against the ropes.
I wasn't done. My fists itched to beat something. I wanted blood, I needed it. The burning in my chest burst into flames at the match ending. Fuck no.
Two-pick pressed me against the ropes. His shaggy black hair tickled my eyes, irritating me further. I shoved his long lanky body away from mine. He was taller than me, but he was a bean pole; both the Dawson twins were like that.
"Cut your damn hair already." I rubbed the itchiness from my eyes. I pulled it away to find it slicked with blood.
Two-pick brushed the hair from his eye, but it fell back in. He slouched, a side-effect of his abnormal height. "I ain't never cutting this." He shook his hair around to prove his point.
Clove, the other Dawson twin, hovered over Shanks. He poked at the pale blonde boy's nose. A load groan came from Shanks hauled him over his shoulder. I could almost hear Don telling me off once he saw the boy's bumps and bruises.
Shanks could handle it. If there's anything us Scants took pride in, it was our fighting. We weren't like pussy Magnates, we could take a punch, and dish em' too.
Two-pick grabbed my sweaty wrist, and raised it to the sky. My chest heaved as the adrenaline left my body. "Your winner, fuckers." Two-pick dropped my hand, clasping my back.
The crowd roared. Scants jumped on each others' shoulders, screaming and shouting. Music blared through the barn, heavy ugly metal. The sound burst through my ears, heightening the euphoria I felt. The wooden barn walls shook with excitement. The moon shined through cracks in the ceiling and wall. I soaked it all in.
I raised both my fists and shouted.
The crowd returned my energy, screaming, jumping, shaking, anything they could do to release the excitement.
I heaved a breath, pressing my palms to my knees. I shook my head, allowing the laughter to rumble out of my chest.
Two-hit tossed a stained black-V-neck over my face. I swiped the fabric from my head wiping my face. I glared at him. He grinned back, an unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth. I rolled the shirt up and whipped him.
He scampered away like a colt.
I chuckled, sliding the ratty fabric over my chest.
Paige and Butch slid into the ring. The red ribbons acting as ropes kept jack-shit out. Good thing they didn't need to anymore. With the fight over, Scants spread out through the barn. Most piled by the ratty couched and makeshift bar. Talon stood behind the bar, mixing and concocting drinks only a Scant could handle.
The chill of the night howled through my veins. I couldn't hide the smile as they approached. This was it. This is what being a Scant is all about.
Paige wore the same denim jacket I'd given her years ago, only now it fit her properly. The cuffs wore down into white fringes. Her hair sat in a ratty knot in the middle of her scalp. Car grease and dirt smeared her face. Her soft almond eyes tugged at a piece in my heart.
I only had one weakness, and everyone around here knew it. My little sister.
"You fucked him up real good, Ace." Her fists playfully pummeled my chest. Long dark hair swung wildly, the ends bleached and dyed a faded pink.
"Watch the language, Rotasu." I lazily cracked my knuckles.
Her fist knocked my jaw. The sting was brief and fleeting. If it had been anybody else I would've knocked em' flat; but it was Rotasu. She could kill me and I'd be helpless to stop it.
Butch hovered a little too close to her. He'd recently shave off his long Arab hair. For some reason the boy hated his heritage; especially when he had a black eye. Nobody ever said much about it though, wasn't exactly our place. The only race he hated more than his own were Whites.
Neither Butch or Paige were initiated. Don liked to keep the younger ones out, and they were still freshmen. We didn't doom anyone until they wasn't any other chance. Until then, they had every opportunity to run.
My eyes narrowed on Butch. His eyes widened when they finally looked away from my sister, and at me. Butch was a good kid, but I've hammered plenty of "good kids." before.
"Watch it Reed." His last name was a warning.
He casually took a step back. Hands folded in the front of his pocket. His eyes jerkily glanced around, flinching at a sound too loud, or movement too fast. I clicked my tongue. Giving him a nickname would be all too easy.
"Hey! He didn't do nuthing to you." Paige playfully began swinging and I blew out a hot breath. She barely reached my shoulders standing like this. I grabbed her head and pushed her back.
She stumbled back, shrugging it off.
"Chill out." I mumbled.
"What crawled up your ass and died?" She teased.
Two-pick saw my distress and offered a smoke. I gladly took it, slipping it between my lips. He lit his, and offered me the lighter.
It wasn't a secret I was in a bad mood. I didn't fight when I was happy; I fought when I needed to beat certain people up, but I couldn't. I couldn't tell anyone about it. Doesn't matter if they'd understand or not, I could handle it on my own.
Rotasu frowned at the cigarette in my mouth. Her nose curled into disgust when I lit it, and blew out a cloud of smoke.
"I wish you'd stop." She frowned.
Guilt chewed away at the burning hatred in my stomach, turning the flames towards me. I was always hating the world or myself; sometimes there wasn't even a difference.
I couldn't keep her eye. I found myself turning away, huffing.
"It's better than being dead, ain't it?" I snapped, taking a quick inhale of smoke.
It burned my lungs, choking me. My body threatened to cough, but I wouldn't allow it. I don't smoke much, only when I was really happy, or really fucking pissed.
The pout on her lip chewed, and chewed, and chewed at my resolve. I rolled my eyes, dropping it to the floor and snuffing it out with my wrapped feet.
"Idiot." she mumbled, feigning annoyance.
I scoffed, ruffling up her pin-straight hair. She huffed, scrambling to fix it. Her eyes glanced between me and Butch as she desperately tried to fix it. A blush tickled her cheeks. If i ever catch him return the look, that sly Bastard was gonna get it.
For a moment, my heart swelled. It wasn't plastic joy, or some fake fuckery. Rotasu was the only real joy this world had to offer. I'll be damned if I lose her.
After embarrassing her right, my boiling rage settled to a simmer. I enjoyed the chilly air, but I missed my scuffed leather jacket, and heavy boots.
Two-pick noticed this and clicked his teeth. "I'll watch her."
With a nod, I turned heel and headed towards what was known as the loft. Only, instead of storing hay, it hid my shit.
"I don't need a babysitter!" Rotasu called out after me. I ignored her, my shoulders shaking with a laugh.
She had Mom's spunk.
For the most part, the loft was empty. The boards were loose allowing night to slip in. Old hay and dirt coated the floorboard. With each move I kicked up more dust bunnies that danced in the moonlight. I swiped my hand in front of my face, cleaning out the air.
Behind a stack of old rusty farm equipment was my pile of clothes. I slipped on the leather jacket reeking of smoke and gasoline. I inhaled the precious smell. Nights full of racing and fighting sent a shiver through my body. God, I loved it.
I quickly exchanged the basketball shorts for a set of hard jeans, and a pair of boots. I tucked away the shorts and wraps into the hole in the floor, safe until the next flight.
Breath in, breath out.
Fighting with Shanks gave me no release. I didn't want to beat up some innocent boy trying to prove himself. I wanted to knock a Magnate or two. I hated those Bastard, nobody hated em' more than I did. Cept' maybe Don himself.
My fingers tingled. Red hot anger consumed my vision. I itched, itched to bash some deserving skulls in.
I folded myself over a hole in the wall, looking out at the night sky. Off in the distance, behind all the tree, trailers, and shitty houses, I saw the East side of Trillium.
Pretty houses, safe streets. Houses upon houses filled with privileged Magnates who didn't even begin to understand what pain was. How could they? Livin' in big, cushy houses; sleeping in soft warm beds.
Spring break floated by too quickly. The air had lost its cold bite. It was warming back up, welcoming the return of school.
The return of watching Magnates run around the school, doing whatever shit they wanted without anyone giving a shit
At least I'd get to knock a few of them around. Bastards always got too damn cocky and wanted to fight. All you had to do was poke em' and they'd run away crying. I shook my head, blowing out another round of smoke. Pussies
With the smoke in my lungs, I calmed down. Then snuffed it out, and joined the rest of the Scants for our last party.
The last party before hell.