Rule 1 of Fight Club: You do not talk about fight club!
Fight Club was my brother's life. He lived, ate, drank, and breathed Fight Club. He also died from it. He sustained numerous internal injuries due to fighting every night. Thanks to him I figured out how to get into Fight Club. It didn't take much, just follow the crowd down into the basement after the bars closed, and stay away from everyone. I wanted nothing more than to watch . . . at first. After going for awhile, I began to have a want to fight. I'd stand there rooting others on, while all along I was fighting them in my head. Dodging hits and swinging punches. I'd go to the gym and work out, getting stronger. Better. Faster. Until I knew, I'd last at least twenty minutes without passing out.
I'd been going to fight clubs for about three months when he first talked to me. It was at a fight club in the basement of the local bar just five minutes from my house. I was wearing a baseball cap that hid my long auburn hair. A baggy shirt that said Go green and a picture of a Pot Leaf on it, and black baggy pants. My dad's old combat boots fit just right over my pants. I wasn't even paying attention when he walked up. There was a new kid fighting, I recognized him from my anatomy class at the community college. He had to be no older then 19, and he was beating the snot out of some 40-something year old. Suddenly I felt a tap on my shoulder and I looked over. A tall guy with reddish hair was looking me in the face. He was wearing a tank top with a graffiti design and blue jeans. He had a black eye that was now kind of yellow as it tried to heal.
"I've seen you here before man, but I've never seen you fight." He said with a soft smirk. "I haven't found a good time to get in a fight." I mumble trying to make my voice sound deeper. "Okay, then." He said then looked around. "Hey, after these two, me and the new guy are up!" He called out to the crowd. Everyone looked at me and Shouted. Some started whispering, others looked away not caring. Who was this clown? I thought to myself as we headed to the center of the crowd. The two fighting stopped as the skinny kid from my college class broke the 40-some thing's jaw. Then the guy grabbed me and pulled me in the center. He pulled off his shirt and I almost fainted when I saw his rock hard abs. Then it hit me. Oh Shit! I have to take my shirt off! I screamed inside my head. I slowly grabbed the end of my shirt and started to pull it up. "Leave it on." The guy said with a smile. And with that he came at me. He knocked my hat off and started to punch me in the gut. I coughed once then started to hit back. I elbowed him in the head a few times, Slammed my fist into his face making his nose bleed, He got me back by punching me right in the breast. We hammered at each other for a good while until he called the fight off.
He had blood running down his face from the broken nose I gave him and the cuts on his forehead. My lip was swollen, and I was pretty sure both my eyes were going to be blacked when I woke up in the morning. If I did wake up. The guy reached his hand out and helped me up from my fetal position on the floor. I grabbed it and he helped me hobble over to a metal bench over in the corner away from the crowd and the fighting. "You know women really shouldn't come to fight clubs." He said as he pulled out a bottle of vodka from under the bench. "Why not? Women can do just about everything men can do. Why not fight?" I asked hoarsely as I held my arm across my chest. "Mostly because I could have done real damage to you, especially your breast." He sighed leaning against the wall and taking a drink of his vodka. "Eh." I said taking the bottle of vodka from him and taking a gulp. "Tyler Durden." He said holding out his brushed and bloody hand. "Ember Brittle." I grunted out as the vodka burnt my throat. I was glad I had fought tonight, but I just knew that there would be hell to pay tomorrow.
I woke up in a filthy bed, in a filthy room, in a filthy house. The walls were cracked and the paint was peeling, it smelled like burning . . . something, and there were clothes everywhere. I rolled over to see if there was a clock or something and came face to face with Tyler Durden. The guy I fought last night at Fight Club. What the hell? I thought to myself as his eyes slowly opened and he smiled. "You're pretty limber for someone who got the crap beat out of them." He said yawing. "What happened last night?" I asked. "I remember fighting you, then we went up to the bar and got drunk, then everything else is a blur." I sighed laying my head down on the pillow. "Then you told me about your brother James, I hugged you, then you threw yourself at me and we came here and had sex." He added stretching under the covers. "Ready for round two?" He asked looking over at me with what I think was supposed to be a sexy grin. "Uh, no." I said sitting up fast. The blanket fell down and felt a cool wave of relief roll over me as I saw I still had my shirt on. "Suit yourself. Get out of my room and make yourself useful and make me some food." He said then rolled over and went back to bed. I got up and grabbed whatever clothes I could find and put them on, then took one last look at him sleeping and walked out of his room. Everything from last night flooded back to me and I sighed. I did enjoy last night, from what I could remember Tyler was pretty good in bed.
I went down the stairs and went into the kitchen. There was another guy sitting their drinking coffee and reading a newspaper. He was wearing a flannel robe and sweat pants. He looked up as I came down the stairs. "You are never going to believe the dream I had last night, same as before only it wasn't Marla this time, some red head." He said not looking up from his paper. "Who's Marla?" I asked opening the fridge. He looked up at me and opened his eyes wide; I was wearing a black tank top that was way too big from my small frame and no Bra, and pair of Tyler's boxers. "Who are you?" He asked slowly. "Ember Brittle, you can call me Em. What does Tyler eat for breakfast normally?" I asked shifting around bags of yellow stuff. "Toast with honey." He sighed looking back at his paper. I grabbed the honey out of the grabbed the bread off the table. "Call me Jack." He said pointing towards the toaster. "Thanks Jack." I said then put the bread in the toast and sat down at the table. "So Jack, You go to fight club too?" I asked grabbing his coffee and taking a sip. "I'm not supposed to talk about it." He said taking the coffee back. "Got cha." I laughed as the toast popped out of the toaster. I got up and grabbed a plate out of the door less cupboard and put the toast on it then grabbed the honey and went upstairs. I was intent on staying here, seeing how I had nowhere else to go.
I walked into Tyler's room where Tyler was sitting in the bed still naked reading. "Here's your breakfast. I'm late for work, see you later." I said putting the plate on a cardboard box next to his bed, then I walked around the room picking up my clothes, or what was left of them. My shirt was now covered in blood. I pulled Tyler's boxers off and pulled my panties on, then hopped into my black baggy pants, pulled on my socks and laced up my boots and picked my bra off the edge of the bed and put it on while making sure none of. "Do you have a shirt I can borrow?" I asked looking around. "The suitcase in the closet." Tyler said watching me with a mouth full of toast. I walked over and opened the closet door. It was full of boxes of soap that said Paper Street Soap Company. I pushed them aside and unzipped the suitcase. I reached in the grabbed a random shirt. I pulled it over my head and closed the closet door then turned towards the bedroom door to leave.
"You going to be at fight club tonight?" He asked as I stepped through the door. "I don't think so." I called back as I reached the stairs. "I knew you'd give up. You're just another tourist." He said laughing. "Give up?" I turned around and stormed back into the room. "What do you know about giving up?" I asked glaring at him. "How about giving up so much that you don't even care how bad you mutilate your own body!?" I screamed ripping my shirt off. Everywhere from my belly button to my neck line was covered in deep red gashes. Some healed and scabbed over, while others where yellowed and infected, or fresh and dripping blood. Tyler just sat there looking at them with a little smile on his face. "Thought you where late for work?" He asked picking up his book. "You're horrible." I cried pulling my shirt back on and walking out. "Bring home dinner!" He called as I reached the bottom of the stairs.