Armor

Chapter 1

My Own World

I hate taxis. Being a native of New York City, I've had quite a number of experiences with them and every single one I've ridden in has smelled of stale food, had gum stuck somewhere, and played bad, static music on a fifty-year-old radio. Check, check, and check –the one I was in passed my test with flying colors. The driver wasn't helping the cause either. He was a fat, greasy, black haired man who whistled along to the terrible music. He also kept glancing back at me in the rear mirror which really creeped me out. I shot him another glare when his beady eyes met mine once again.

We had only been driving for forty-five minutes and already I was getting motion sickness, partly from my immense desire to be anywhere else besides the small, stale taxi. With my forehead pressed to the glass window, I locked my eyes on the horizon in attempt to cure my headache. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. House. Tree. Tree. Tree. UGH. I groaned, pressing my eyes tightly shut.

"Take this, Miss Knighton." Albert Wilkens, an old man with kind eyes and a heart to match, held out two pills in his hand.

"Thanks, Albert, you know me too well." I swallowed them dry.

"I got a little help from your constant groaning and glaring. But yes, I did bring some pills just in case." He smiled, his fair cheeks wrinkled from a life of smiling. Albert Wilkens had been my family's butler, caretaker, assistant, whatever you want to call it, for decades. He was also both my legal guardian and closest friend. The only sort of family I had left. He was the most hard-working and selfless person I knew and has devoted his life to the perseverance of my family's name and work.

After an hour more of trees and delightful music, the taxi finally turned into a secluded neighborhood with a marble sign displaying "Salem Heights" in gold letters. Every home that we passed was a huge mansion, most of them with gates, gardens, and sports cars visible on the front lawns. I shouldn't have been surprised that my parents bought a house in a neighborhood like this, but it was quite different from the busy New York City scene I was used to. This neighborhood had a calm feeling to it, homey and down to earth despite being luxurious and high-class. Still, I knew adjusting to the city of Salem in South California was going to take a vast amount of effort.

Ho. Ly. Shit. My jaw dropped when the taxi pulled into our house's circular driveway where the moving van was already waiting. I should say manor, to be technical. My family's manor was gorgeous at first glance. It was huge, with at least four floors, and a beautiful mix of stucco and dark wood with a touch of Victorian style. The driveway circled around a fountain surrounded by flowers. Albert explained to me earlier that this house had been in my family for decades, although neither of my parents grew up in it. I was actually kind of excited to explore the old place –as long as there were no ghosts.

"So this entire thing is for the two of us?" I asked as Albert and I got out of the taxi, not taking my eyes off the gorgeous architecture.

"Yes, ma'am. I was also thinking it was going to be a bit cramped. But I think we can manage."

I laughed, pulling the bags of the taxi's trunk while Albert paid the driver. I shot the greasy driver one last glare as he got back into the car and drove off. Albert explained the basic layout of the house to me while I carried in the bags (I told him not to strain his old bones) and the movers carried in everything else. For some reason, I was surprised to see that the house was furnished and maintained. It was like someone had been living here all along. Like no one ever left. I got a small case of shivers.

"This is your room, Miss Knighton." Albert said, out of breath from the trek up four flights of stairs.

"You better go lie down, Albert. Stairs aren't meant for old geezers." I grinned, opening the door to reveal a large, appealing room.

"I cannot tell you how many times I've climbed those stairs in my lifetime, Miss Knighton. I'm just a little rusty, that's all." He smiled, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.

My room had plush, cream carpet and raspberry walls with gold trimming. There was a king-sized, canopy bed, other furniture, a bathroom (complete with Jacuzzi), and a white marble balcony. Windows lined the back wall where the balcony was, allowing the early afternoon sunlight to brighten every corner of the room. I think I was going to like living here.

After a few more hours of moving in, when everything settled down a little more, I asked Albert the most important question of all…

"So where can I train?" I hopped down the last two stair steps dressed in work out clothes, pulling a pair of black, open-fingered gloves on my already wrapped hands.

"I had the movers set everything up for you. Walk straight to the back through these doors, you won't miss it."

"Thanks, Albert!" I smiled, followed his directions, and walked into a room with all my training equipment set up. The room was absolutely perfect. The temperature was cool, there were mats laid out on the concrete floor and like my room, it had one side of windows. The room was complete with a punching bag, speed bag, weight training equipment, a refrigerator stocked with water bottles, and various other things.

I closed my eyes, inhaled slowly, and relaxed my shoulders. I let my mind calm and focus, listening to my heart's own beat and focusing on the blood and energy flowing through my body. I was entering my own world now. A world where I was confident. Strong. Happy. A world that let me forget the pains of my past, even if just for a moment. A world that I have been training in everyday for ten years. A world that acted as an outlet, allowing me to transform anger into strength. If I hadn't entered the world of mixed martial arts, I wouldn't be alive today. It saved me from myself.

I began to bounce on my toes, bringing my fists up near my face as I targeted the worn-out black punching bag in front of me. I began to punch it, lightly at first, but shortly picked up the intensity. I only stopped to jump rope and stretch, and then returned to my main training. Hit. Hit. Hit. Hit. My breaths were short and sharp. Beads of sweat ran down my face; I loved the salty taste when I licked my lips. It reminded me that I was in the midst of accomplishment.

I paused to take a break after two hours. Gulping down water, I noticed that there was a house not too far from mine, clearly visible through the wall of windows. Although the lots in the neighborhood were huge, each house was only about an acre apart from its neighboring houses. I admired the house's beauty. It even had a swimming pool and hot tub in the back. Swimming sounded really nice right about then...maybe a cute boy lived there who I could mooch the pool off of. I smirked. Yeah right, I've never been that lucky.

I had no idea how wrong I was.