Preface:

The blonde crossed her legs at the bar, putting out her Marlboro Red in the ashtray as she squeezed her eyes shut. Her other fingers wrapped around her pink and gold bejeweled shot glass her neighbors bought her for high school graduation. It was full and waiting for her, begging her to unclench her jaw like a snake to consume to fiery liquid. The bar carried a history of late night conversations, romantic gestures and plain memories of laughter and drunkenness. She admired every portrait, every picture and every dent in the wood. "Factory Station" was her favorite bar in the entire world, her home away from home. But not tonight—tonight, she barely felt comfortable.

There was a group of girls wearing practically nothing, commenting on her jean shorts that stopped at her upper thigh and the gray t-shirt crop top she wore, claiming she was the whore. It did not bother her at first, in a way she was used to the insecurities of her peers. Clarke was always confident in her appearance, her body, the way she used it and how well she performed sexually. There wasn't a single thing they could say about her sun-kissed skin, or her golden blonde hair or her piercing blue eyes that would cause a feather to ruffle. That is, until she heard her newfound nemesis exclaim with a loud giggle, "That's probably why her dad abandoned them!"

Her lids flew open, meeting the familiar brown eyes she'd grown used to over the last three years. Aurora Blake frowned, clearly annoyed with the brunette across the room. If Aurora Blake gave a person, specifically a girl, that look they were typically done for. It took her a moment to speak because she was too busy reading her almost-daughter-in-law's expression. She could see the pain, the hurt, the betrayal radiating off her cerulean eyes. "Clarke—" She started but Clarke didn't want her to say it again. Fight for him, fight for him, fight for him seemed to be her new mantra but Clarke was so tired of fighting for him. In her opinion, her fight was over.

She dedicated her entire mind, entire body, and entire soul to Bellamy Blake for three years—stupidly, really because she was just shy of eighteen when they started their relationship. He was, by far, the best kisser she knew and sometimes she could still feel the way his lips used to make her own lips tingle like an electric shock. Sometimes, she could still feel him. But, he ended it with prejudice after he dropped out of school and she stayed because she was going to follow her own plan. It still made her mad when she thought about him asking her to give up on her dreams. It was over. They were over, so she didn't know why it still made her angry.

Maybe she was done fighting for him, but she was far from defending her loved ones. It'd always been a nasty habit of hers to protect the people she treasured. Nasty, being, she wasn't exactly nice about telling someone to fuck off. "And momma, you might want to call the cops." She caught the smile on Aurora's red-drawn lips before she pivoted on her heel and made her way to Roma.

Roma, Bellamy Blake's new girlfriend, was the one talking shit—and now, the bitch was going to get hit. Before Roma or her friends could comprehend her presence, she had her fingers threaded in her brown hair and her face pressed against the felt of the blue pool table. Clarke could be mean, she could tell Roma how Bellamy and she used to have sex on the table after the bar closed but she wasn't going to go into detail about her sex life for her own entertainment. Instead, she stuck to the point. Clarke's brown ankle boots shifted against the faux-wood floor before she leaned down and whispered into Roma's ear. As much as she knew Aurora wanted to see Roma's ass kicked, she wasn't about to get the cops called on a busy Friday night. It would destroy business. Instead, she kept her speech short. "If I ever hear you talking about my dad or how I used to fuck your boyfriend again, I will kick your ass in front of all your skanky, idiotic friends. This is the only warning you get, bitch."

Short intro? Yes. Longer chapters to come—most definitely!

The REAL story starts with their first meeting and so on up until this point.

Let me know what you think!