Outside The Ropes Read online

  OUTSIDE THE ROPES

  Ashley Claudy

  Copyright© 2014 Ashley Claudy

  All rights reserved. No parts of this book may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written consent from the author except for use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover by R.B.A. Designs. Edited by T.K. Editing

  To You. You’re awesome.

  ~Thank you

  Table Of Contents

  1: The First Punch

  2: Darkness Circling

  3: Small Kindness

  4: Not Even Close

  5: I Could Imagine

  6: Fight Night

  7: Static

  8: Cat And Mouse

  9: Sleep Deprived

  10: Tiny Storms

  11: In For A Penny

  12: Dazed And Confused

  13: Nice

  14: Interfere

  15: Safety

  16: Habits

  17: Trust Me

  18: Not Breathing

  19: You Need It

  20: Stop Me

  21: More Than A Little

  22: Man Up

  23: Edge

  24: Numb

  25: Debt

  26: Sorry

  27: Abandoned

  28: Trapped

  29: Breathe

  30: Still Standing

  31: Sinking

  32: Drowning

  33: Decision Made

  Thank You

  Fun Stuff

  About The Author

  Acknowledgements

  1: The First Punch

  THE FIRST PUNCH THREW ME OFF BALANCE, but the second drew blood, exploding my vision as I was slammed to the canvas. My jaw throbbed with every heartbeat; a burn spreading just under the skin. I pushed against the mat, lifting my body up, and ignored the pain.

  The room around me split, blurred, and then came back into focus. Bright overhead lights shadowed everything beyond the red ropes surrounding the ring.

  “Two…” The referee’s voice broke through the deafening buzz in my head.

  Wiping my mouth with my gloved hand, the smear of blood didn't surprise me. She'd reopened the cut on my lip.

  “Three…” He held three fingers in front of my face.

  My vision tunneled on my opponent. She was standing with her arms in a V, playing up the crowd. That was her mistake.

  My mistake had been looking towards Silas for guidance. I had been unsure of myself, and that got me hit. Twice. Now, I'd put my faith in my instincts. I rose to my feet, never taking my eyes off her.

  The referee stepped in front of me, lips moving, but his voice never reached me. I sent him away with a nod.

  Facing me, her smile dropped, along with her arms. She bounced around, hands up to strike or block, her eyes intent on me.

  The sound of my steady breathing filled my head, the beat of my heart keeping time.

  She jabbed, and I stepped back, avoiding the blow. She had expected that and followed it with a left hook.

  I ducked and took a swing, landing a punch to her jaw. My arm vibrated down to my bones. Her head jerked up and back at an odd angle as she fell onto the ropes. Before she recovered, I lunged towards her, swinging my fists. Blow after blow connected with her body and head; the impact shook my muscles until they were numb.

  The ring disappeared, and I was fighting back for all those times I couldn’t. I was no longer in control of my thoughts or actions. Each punch fueled another, and I didn’t want to stop. I couldn’t stop.

  The referee forced himself between us, shoving me back. I knocked his arm out of the way, gaining control just before swinging at him. Stepping back, I sucked in ragged breaths and watched my opponent slide down the ropes, her body folding as she hit the canvas. The ref pushed my shoulders, nudging me further away before going to her side.

  My senses returned, bit by bit, with each flick of the ref's finger as he counted. The sound in the room wavered. The referee returned to my side and raised my arm. I pulled my vision from the girl crumpled on the ground with a bloody nose as her team surrounded her.

  Silas stood in the corner of the ring, his feet wide and his arms crossed. His dark face remained like stone. He hadn't moved from when I last looked to him, except now the side of his mouth tugged up. Meeting his gaze, I returned the small smile. He inclined his head towards me as a pair of hands came down on my shoulders.

  Dexter was behind me, shaking me, congratulating me, and everything snapped back into the present. Sweat and the metallic tinge of blood burned my nose, and the bright lights blinded me.

  Only then did I recall Silas’s instructions from earlier. “It’s all a show, and if you win, you have to put on another one. Make the crowd love you.”

  I raised my hands towards the audience, but there wasn't one. I was the opening act; no one cared to watch the unknowns, especially the girls. But I had captured a few people’s attention and smiled to them. Then Dex was pulling me from the ring.

  We wove between groups of people, making their way to their seats, to the little room we had claimed outside the gym. Dex hadn’t shut up yet. He was going on about the fight, swinging his fists in the air as he recounted it.

  I stepped into the small room, my eyes adjusting from the bright lights, and froze, adrenaline spiking. Gage sat in the corner, wearing only his boxing shorts, as a girl massaged his bare shoulders. Even in dim lighting, the lines of muscle stood out on his tattoo-covered torso. He leaned forward in the chair, his thick forearms resting on his knees, and raised one dark eyebrow at me in question.

  Dexter nudged me from behind, setting me on the path into the room. I found the nearest chair and sat, stunned from my fight, and yet a nervous energy was now pulsing under my skin from Gage’s presence.

  I tried to resist peeking a glance at him, but couldn't. He rolled his head to the side, giving the girl's hands access to his neck, but his eyes locked on mine, unreadable and intense.

  Dexter blocked my view, handing me ice wrapped in a rag. I pressed it to my cut lip, letting the sting focus me back on my fight. A fight I won. He stooped beside me on the balls of his feet and started to remove my gloves. He cut away the tape supporting my wrists and hands, his wide smile causing his eyes to wrinkle.

  I returned the smile as realization hit. “I did it,” I breathed, stretching each hand while keeping the ice to my lip.

  “Hell yeah, you did.” He laughed. “How do you feel, Rea? Anything besides that lip hurt?”

  “Nah, the lip ain’t even bad. I feel great.” Laughing with him, I stood up, pulling the ice away; bright red blood spotted the rag. I walked over to the mirror to check out the damage.

  A rumble of a laugh made me stop. "I heard you got hit." Gage's voice was deep and rough with disapproval.

  All the adrenaline from the fight must not have worn off because for some stupid reason I stepped towards him with my chin raised. “Did you hear I won, too?”

  “That’s one fight, a nobody at that, and she hit you. Twice. Don’t celebrate that. You need to train, and do, better.” He smirked and leaned back in the chair, pulling the girl behind him onto his lap. She landed on him with a giggle and he hooked his arms around her waist before looking back to me “Think about that. Now get out of here and let me get ready for my fight. Oh and you should stick around for it. Maybe you’ll learn something.”

  All I could do was walk away. I knew better than to speak up in the first place. I was usually good at keeping my mouth shut. The bleachers surrounding
the ring were full now, the noise adding to the energy of the room. Electric excitement filled the air, lighter than the oppressive fog that came from Gage.

  Dexter followed behind me, and when the door closed, I turned towards him. “What time does Gage fight?”

  His blue-gray eyes were soft as he looked down at me. “It won’t start for another hour at least; he’s the main fight. Let's get you changed in the locker room.” As he walked through the crowd of people, towards a back hallway, he turned to me. “Don’t take it personal. He’s harder on himself. I think he actually likes you… thinks you’ve got something.”

  I half snorted. “Yeah, right.” I shook my head. “He’s right, though. It's my first fight, I shouldn’t be overly confident.” Because the one thing I knew was that whatever I had done in that ring, I wanted to do it again.

  Alone in the locker room, I checked out the cut on my lip. It hadn’t reopened all the way, so I wouldn’t need new stitches. Shadows of bruises were still on my eye and chin, but there were no new ones from tonight.

  I nodded to myself. Yeah, I wanted to fight again. Hitting back felt good. But I needed those guys out there to help me, more than they already had, because I didn’t want to just fight—I wanted to be good. No, I wanted to be the best.

  I wouldn’t let anyone hit me again.

  2: Darkness Circling

  1 month earlier

  I REACHED FOR THE CASH IN DREW'S hand, but he raised his arm, keeping it out of my reach.

  “Whadya say you give me a little kiss first? Right here?” He pointed to his cheek with his other hand.

  Half smiling, I shoved him. “You wish, now give me my money.” I jumped up, snatching the bills from him.

  “People are trying to work here,” Trichelle reprimanded, turning sideways as she slid between us, tray in hand.

  Drew threw his hands up in repentance, and then repeatedly thrust his hips forward. “Come back and let me apologize, Trichelle.”

  She smacked the back of his head as she passed by again, weaving through patrons to get to her tables.

  “Regan, do you have a ride home?” he asked, untying his apron and crumpling it up. He tossed it like a basketball into the wash bin just inside the kitchen. The apron draped over the edge, half in, half out.

  Walking to the laundry pile, I threw mine in and scooped Drew’s into the basket. “I’m good, thanks,” I lied.

  I didn’t know where I was going for the night. I counted the bills in my hand, reorganizing them so the little heads all faced the same way. It was my first shift off of training, and I’d made one hundred and twenty dollars. I could get a hotel.

  I paused, considering as I folded the bills into my pocket. Or maybe I'd go to Nan’s again. There was always someone there to let me in; I just wasn’t guaranteed a bed, but I'd save some money. A warm place to stay for the price of breakfast. Worked for me.

  Shrugging into my winter coat, Drew and I walked out the door. The cold racket of the city replaced the warm clamors of the restaurant.

  He slid on a ski cap and turned towards me, his breath fogging up in the icy air. “I’ll see you tomorrow. You work, don’t you?”

  I pulled my hood up to protect my ears from the bite of the wind, the tip of my nose beginning to run and freeze. “Yeah, see ya then.” Turning from him, I jogged across the street before the traffic light had a chance to change on me.

  Nan only lived a few blocks away. I'd save the cab fare for tomorrow when I’d have to close late. It was a little after 10:00 pm, early for the city. The streets were lit up and alive with people walking every which way.

  As I made a couple of turns, the crowds began to thin. I took my keys out of my pocket, arranging them in my fist so the thin points stuck out like I was Wolverine. I only had three keys, but that was enough. One for my P.O. Box and two for my locker that held the stuff I couldn’t keep at Nan’s. I didn't have much besides a change of clothes at her apartment, and I didn’t plan to leave much more. Not with her friends in and out all the time.

  A large shadow moving over me signaled something coming from behind, and I gripped my hand on my keys. Adrenaline tightened my muscles as the stampede of footsteps grew louder. I turned as a fist flew at my head and ducked, avoiding the blow. I came back up swinging and made contact with an arm. The keys bit into my palm with the force, causing me to drop them.

  “What the fuck?” he snarled as he grabbed his shoulder.

  Four more circled around me, laughing. They all had ski masks covering their faces. My brain was several painful heartbeats behind my body, frozen with fear. My muscles pulled with the need to flee, but there was no way to escape as they closed in.

  “You didn't even hit her? Try again,” one boy encouraged with a laugh.

  “Knock her out,” yelled another.

  “Hit the bitch.”

  I breathed through my rising panic, staying focused on the one I had hit. Behind him, another had his phone out, filming. Fear surged through my veins.

  Everything slowed as the boy closest to me swung again, but he was hesitant and my reactions were fast. I had been dodging punches all my life.

  I stepped back, trying to stay calm and find a break in the group so I could run. He swung again, but this time I sidestepped and threw one of my own, hitting him in his temple. Pushing him to the side, I took off through the opening I'd created.

  Hands snatched my jacket and yanked me back, slamming me onto the dirty concrete sidewalk. A flash of pain exploded from hip to toes.

  Screaming, I yelled with all I had, hoping someone would hear. A swift, hard kick to my ribs silenced me, paralyzing my breath. Rolling to my stomach, I gasped for air, forcing my lungs to work through the blinding pain. But one, two, three more kicks shook my body.

  I grabbed a foot, before it struck my head, and pulled. The boy fell to the ground, and I scrambled to stand, the chance of running overpowering the aches radiating through my bones.

  But another snatched my hood off and fisted my hair, jerking me back with a lightning bolt of pain. His other hand covered my mouth and nose, suffocating me. Brick walls streaked past me and any hope I had left faded along with the city lights as they dragged me deeper into the alley.

  I strained to breathe, fighting down my panic. Anger coursed through me as I focused on the guy with the phone still standing back, recording.

  A pair of hands yanked on my purse. “Stupid bitch, give it up.”

  So I did. I dropped my bag. But they still had hold of my hair while another one tore off my jacket.

  “She works at Johnny’s, check her pockets,” the one with the camera commanded.

  Hands pulled everywhere, yanking me from one side to the other as they searched for anything of value. Even after they took my money they continued to deliver kicks and punches that threatened to push me over my limit. The blows to the head were nudging me out of consciousness, my vision darkening.

  I used all the strength I had left to slam my body into the person holding me, forcing him into the brick wall at our back. His grip loosened, and I ran, desperate to get away. When another one grabbed me this time, I turned and rammed my knee into his groin. He collapsed, and I swung my fist, hitting the other masked man in front of me.

  But arms still closed around me. The world bled as tears burned my vision, my heart sinking as I realized there were too many of them to escape.

  Reaching up and behind, I pulled the mask off the one holding me. I wanted to at least see who they were, in case I survived. No, when I survived. He was young, perhaps 16, with skin the color of midnight and curly, dark hair. Heedless of the fists still pounding at my body, I focused my wavering vision on the telling tattoo on his neck: a horseshoe with a vine.

  As the group enclosed around me, I no longer heard the threats they shouted. With one last burst of mad, wild energy, I fought, throwing punches in every direction. I had to; otherwise I would submit to the black unconsciousness that wavered just behind my anger. It seemed to work for a
moment, but when they threw me to the ground and kicks shook me as quick as rain, all I could do was roll into a ball.

  My head snapped back and blood gushed in my mouth and nose, drowning me. It took all my energy to stay rolled up as lightning bolts of pain thundered inside me, jerking my body, but it was my only defense.

  A loud shot broke through the roar. It was pointless to fight the darkness circling me when there was a gun. I gave up and everything went black.

  3: Small Kindness

  THE DARKNESS HELD NO PEACE, ONLY PAIN. A liquid fire ran through me and surrounded me, consuming and destroying. I didn’t know if I was still being attacked or who it was this time: strangers, foster parents, or bullies from the group home. It all bled together. Past. Present. Pain. I didn’t even know if I was lying down. Everything burned, and the dark prison was terrifying.

  I struggled to open my eyes, to see what was going on, but I was trapped in my body. My mind, long conditioned for survival, wouldn’t shut off and fought for awareness. Muffled sounds reached me. Someone yelled something about an ambulance. I had to get up. Now.

  My eyes cracked open. A shadowy form was above me, patting the air surrounding me, but I didn’t think his hands made contact.

  “No,” I croaked out.

  The figure jumped back, and then leaned in towards me. “What? Just rest, you’re safe now. You’re going to be okay.”

  I moved through the strong grip of pain and sat up. The man in front of me yelled to someone else for help as I attempted to stand. My legs were shaky and ached, but I couldn’t go to the hospital. I couldn’t afford those bills. I needed to get to Nan’s. I pushed his hands away as he grabbed for me, but the movement was slow and my arms were too weak.

  “Stop, you’re hurt. You need to sit down. The ambulance will be here soon,” the panicked man said as another one joined him.

  It was like being submerged in mud. Sounds were muffled and movements were difficult. Talking was near impossible; something was wrong with my mouth.

  “You need stitches, but you'll be fine,” a new man said to me. He was calm as he turned to his friend. “I think she’s going into shock.”