Chapter 2:

*EDITED*

DISCLAIMER: (I don't know why I bother) I do not own Kickin'it or any other names/brands in this story.

-CCC

...

Blood…

I stood there in intrigue and shock, my brain still trying to process what it had seen. Toto was still barking but now his yelps were directed towards me, or rather the blood. They say dogs can sense strange things, but then again, you don't need a dog to figure out that a blood-covered piece of material hanging from your cherry tree isn't exactly a typical every day discovery.

What I had concluded so far was that someone had climbed up into my tree, had probably tried to spy on me, and had ripped their shirt on their way back down.

So now I have a stalker. Great.

Wanting to get the blood off of my hands as soon as possible, I made my way back up to my room, careful not to touch anything in case I stained it.

Unfortunately, that made opening my bedroom door quite difficult, and in the end I had to opt for opening it with my feet, which took me forever.

Once I had finally managed to open my door, I gently placed the drying fabric on my nightstand before heading to the on-suite and rinsing the blood from my small hands.

I watched in morbid fascination as the clear water turned red in the porcelain sink, and I waited until it was translucent again before turning the knob and halting the water flow.

As I turned the tap off, I heard the deep voice of my father calling me from downstairs.

"Kim, come out of your room, dinner's ready!"

It was then that I smelt the delicious odor of melted cheese and pepperoni, which could only mean one thing.

Pizza!

I dried my hands on my pants and rushed down to the dining room, forgetting all about the mysterious piece of clothing in my haste.

I came to an abrupt halt at the bottom of the stairs as I spotted my little sister, Isabelle running in my direction, arms out wide with an adorable smile on her little face.

"Kimmyyy! We're hooomee!"

I chuckled as she wrapped her tiny arms around my waist and buried her face in my stomach, giving me a huge raspberry.

"Yeah, I can see that. How was your little shopping trip?"

She looked up at me with big, brown eyes and gave me a toothy grin.

"Daddy bought me a Barbie!" She sounded so happy and carefree, without a care in the world. What I wouldn't give to be six again...

"Wow!" I exclaimed, trying to sound enthusiastic "Which one?" When I was younger, I always used to love the Princess Barbies. I loved the way their dresses sparkled, and how beautiful their hair was. I remember wanting so much to be a princess just like Barbie.

Of course then I grew up, and all of my dolls ended up in the trash can. But it was fun while it lasted.

"Uh…" She thought it over, biting her bottom lip in concentration. "A blonde one" Obviously she wasn't concentrating hard enough...

I smiled to myself as she went on and on about her new doll-whom she named princess banana feet, by the way-and how she was going to be best friends with her other dollies; Captain fish fingers and Miss Eldersausage.

"Girls! Get over here before the pizza gets cold!"

"Uhhh, I don't feel so good."

I let out a chuckle upon seeing my sister stare vacantly at her empty plate, picking at the crumbs.

"I think my tummy exploded," she muttered.

Dad laughed, "You always did have eyes bigger than your stomach."

Isabelle looked at him strangely. "Dad, you say weird things."

"That he does," I agreed, unable to keep the silly smile from my face.

I loved moments like these, when we'd all be together, just talking and laughing, being a normal family. They made it easier to forget it. Forget the pain. Forget the loss.

We were clearing up the plates when I heard my dad call me back into the dining room. He had me sit down on the chair opposite him and crossed his arms in a business-like manner on the table.

"Kim, Kimmy-bear," Oh, god no. I thought he'd given up calling me that when I started high school.

"This is a new house, a new town, a new school...a chance for a fresh start. I know that it can't have been easy for you, moving all this way and leaving your pals behind, but now you've gotta focus on the new for a while. Get some new friends, buy some new clothes, join some new clubs...just make sure that you don't get stuck in the past, okay? Time can pass in the blink of an eye, and you'd be surprised at what you can miss out on if you can't keep up." He looked at me, eyes filled with understanding, but also pleading me to hear his words and understand them.

And I did. I knew what he meant by all that, and I knew exactly why he was telling me; all I had been doing for the past week was sleep, eat and cry at old photos. I missed everything so much, and I hadn't taken the time to notice all the good new things in my life. But I was going to start. From that point on, Kim Crawford was going to start appreciating what she had, starting with A long, hot bath in that nice little new bathtub of hers.

But first...

I fidgeted nervously in my seat, genuinely not knowing how my dad would react to the topic that I was about to bring up.

"Of course daddy, I understand. I really do. And I'm gonna start making a real effort, I promise. But..."

Sensing my hesitation, he gave me an encouraging nod of the head, "Go on..."

I sighed. "Well, I was just thinking, since you were talking about clubs and all, that maybe I could startkarateagain?" I rushed the end of my sentence, too nervous to draw it out any longer.

But he understood me nonetheless, and he didn't seem ecstatic at the subject I had just brought up. It was understandable, though, considering everything that had happened;

My dad was a hot-shot Karate champion, you see. He wasn't known globally, or anything, but the mention of his name had gotten us front-row seats at many a sports tournament, in the past. Karate was his life, and he had made it mine, too. Since the age of four, he had trained me in martial arts, ensuring that I knew every move and every step from top to bottom. If my training sessions had been certified karate classes, I probably would have been bordering on a blackbelt. At least that was what my dad had told me.

But training had become less and less frequent when he had injured an arm and broken one of his legs in a big tournament when I was fourteen, leaving him in a wheelchair for a fortnight and in crutches for another few months, and when we really properly started again, it just wasn't the same. He had gone soft of me, landing weak blows and refusing to teach me the trickier moves.

Although the real scale-tipper when it came to my lessons was when mom got ill, and dad spent all of his time at her bed, looking after her every need. Of course I didn't blame him for looking after his wife, how could I? I would have been doing the same had I not been at school. But when she died, well, he just gave up on karate altogether. Packed all his trophies up into a big box and locked them in the basement. He refused straight-out to continue our lessons, not wanting to lose me like he lost her, stating that karate, real karate against real opponents, was dangerous, and that I could get seriously injured one day.

Of course, I'd considered that a load of bullshit, but I let him be, I let him grieve.

But it had been a year now, and I just couldn't take it anymore. I needed to let out my frustration, and if it wasn't on a practise dummy, then it would have to be a real person. Probably Mrs. Higgins, our new neighbour. I couldn't stand her beady, little eyes and her yellow, crooked, lipstick-covered teeth that just stared you in the face whenever she droned on about her mister Kibbles, that annoying little rat of a chihuahua. Gah! I wanted to hit her.

I could tell that my father was apprehensive, it was written all over his face. I just hoped that he was ready to give it another shot.

"Honey," He sighed. "I know you love karate, and I do, too. But it's just too risky. I mean, I'm a fourth degree black belt, and I still managed to get injured, rather seriously, might I add. I also know that you want to train to fight in tournaments, but I don't think you realise just how serious theses events are. Those people won't want to help you progress, they'll want to knock you down. They won't be gentle, they'll want to hurt you, and some of them might even succeed.

"If you think that our training sessions are harsh, then you should see what a real fight is like. Those people don't mess around, they're in it to win it, and there's never a sure chance of making it out unscathed. And there's no way I'm taking that chance. I'm sorry Kim, but my word is final. You may hate me now, but I hope that it will be to thank me later."

A real fight? Wasn't that what we had? Real fights? Was he even trying when he was training me? Or did he just go easy on me and fake the pain every time I would deliver a kick, or a punch? Was I even any good?

"So you're telling me that all these years you'd been going easy on me? Did you not think that I could handle it? That I was strong enough?" I was almost shaking, tears brimming my eyes. Had he been lying to me all this time? Was that why he never made me fight other kids?

He looked startled at my abrupt change in moods, his eyes widening in panic.

"No, Kimmy, of course not! I trained you as hard as I would have a grown man. I pushed you just as hard as my own sensei had pushed me, and I'm a fourth degree black belt! I was only saying that it had never been my intention to hurt you while we were training, at least not severely. Cuts and bruises and sprained wrists are all good, but those people are looking to knock you down to the ground in any way they can. It's vicious out there, Kimmy-bear, and it would kill me if you were ever hurt because I put you out there."

His eyes had softened, his tone sad and tender, and all the anger I had previously felt dissipated as I stood from my seat, moving towards him and enveloping him in a warm hug, feeling his hands wrapped around the arms encircling him for dear life. It was an embrace filled with sadness, loss and love, both of us outing out all of our unwanted emotions and leaning on each other for support. We had to make it through this. We had to stay strong. For mother. For us.

I don't remember how long we stayed like that, only our final words before pulling away.

"I can't lose you," he whispered, his trembling voice threatening to crack.

My last tears slipping past my eyes, I answered him, "You won't."

The next morning I woke up to the smell of delicious hot coffee in a bright, sunshine-filled room, the light burning my eyes. Once my vision had adjusted to the brightness, I looked over to my nightstand, reading the flashing digital clock that read 10:08 a.m.

I noticed that my 'QUALI-TEA'* mug was filled to the brim with the dark, creamy beverage that I loved oh-so-much, most likely courtesy of my dad, wanting to wake me up without having to deal with grumpy morning-Kim. Smart man.

What I didn't notice, however, was the mysterious piece of torn clothing from the day before, covered in blood and previously sitting right where my mug currently was.

Frantic, I shot up in my bed, desperately scanning the room for any signs of the flimsy fabric, but I found none. I didn't understand.

Maybe it was all just some weird dream? The logical part of me reasoned. It would make a lot more sense...

But how could it have been a dream? I wondered. It all seemed so real...

…

Alright, so how was that? I know there hasn't been any kick yet but it starts in the next chapter when she starts school at Seaford High. If you have any suggestions, tell me and I'll be sure to keep them in mind.

*BTW, the 'quali-tea' mug was a reference to charlieissocoollike, a gorgeously adorable english youtuber who loves doctor who, like me! You should, like, totes check it out.

But not before you read the next chapter ;p

Eat jellybeans!

-CCC