Hi everyone! I know this story (along any other of my stories) have not been updated in awhile, but I got caught up with my own life that decided to drag me down and give me a freaking dry spell of writer's block. It sucked, I was unmotivated and lost my muse, school was coming and then it finally came and there was class work to start my week with. I'm so tired and I feel disoriented like I just got inside a rocket ship, experienced jet lag, landed and got out and feel like I landed on whole new planet. Anyway, I finally got myself to muster up what little creativity I had left in me to conjure up this chapter.
Let me be frank here, there won't be meeting up with any MCU characters for some time. I'm too disinterested to watch anything like Netflix Jessica Jones, Daredevil, Luke Cage or Agents of SHIELD because I'm one lazy-ass little shit. The future chapters will contain mostly about how to go about living on the run, not perfectly in any sense, but to put something because it would just seem way too easy for my character to suddenly show up in New York without putting up any effort on the how's and why's we usually feel in movies. So although this may seem redundant, I think it's a good way to build up the character on how she survives before we finally get to the main point where the plot further progresses into the action and suspense sequences we all want to see in our respective Marvel movies/shows. I hope you guys will give this little arc a chance before turning it away because you lost interest.
Disclaimer: MCU belongs to Disney and Marvel Studios/Comics, I only claim ownership over my Original Character(s) and a little bit of the plot!
Warning: Language, Violence, Adult Content, possible Triggers (there will be heads-up for these things), and whatever comes to mind.
Trigger Warning! References to NON-CON! Read at your own risk!
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ᴀʟᴏɴɢ ᴄᴀᴍᴇ ᴀ sρïdєя-ωσмαη
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Hitching a ride on the roof of a semi trailer truck was quite the experience.
I was dressed in stolen denim shorts, peach-colored camisole, a red cardigan, some kid-sized tennis shoes that fit almost uncomfortable if I went ahead and wore socks with it, and a baseball cap I nicked off some unsuspecting man passing by me that didn't even feel that something was missing off the top of his bald head.
After getting some semblance of sleep, I had gathered all my belongings, dressed in the new clothes I had stolen while my other clothes had dried up in the bathroom. Morning for most was slow and some were barely coming out of the cobwebs of sleep, and it was during those times that I had pinched a few more money from them as they were left unguarded by the still sleepy folk. The money then went into use by purchasing a small breakfast.
Huddled up in the corner of a booth, I wolfed down my breakfast consisting of sausage, eggs, biscuits, and orange juice. The food settled comfortably on the bottom of my stomach, and I was sad to say that I wished I had more money with me to buy another round of breakfast, but I knew I couldn't waste anymore.
I had to reach the safe house in Manhattan, New York.
An hour later where it was near early evening, I was lying on the roof of a giant truck heading north. Now, I could have asked to get a ride, but being a young woman with some appealing looks, could a woman who was traveling all by her lonesome really ask for someone to give her a ride? Because I knew, through reports of television media and cautious stories from my mother and other women, that the ride drivers were thinking about was not the kind that I wanted to go along with.
So, hours of my hair whipping about wildly (and god, that was going to be a bitch to brush later), and keeping an eye on the road signs, I was resigned to watch the world go by me while simultaneously getting a bit of a tan. With a map I acquired (from the motel lobby), I kept track of the names and roads that would lead me to where I needed to go. I had a couple of days to travel, switching from one ride to another in the case that my form of transportation would be deviating somewhere off my intended direction.
Let me say this, it was pretty difficult to keep a low profile while on the highway. Passing cars on the highway made me feel so paranoid, the sight of a police car made me press myself more against the surface of the truck's roof, expecting any moment for the sirens to shriek and the blue and red lights to flash.
I couldn't imagine what I would do when I came across a stop light where there was sure to be cameras set up. I wasn't sure if they were there just recording every vehicle that came through, or if there was someone actually being paid to watch them so that they would easily call authorities to report any abnormalities.
There was never really a bored moment, too much adrenaline and fear keeping me from doing something. I was the kind of person who would like to keep myself occupied when traveling, such as listening to music or playing games on my phone, but such privileges were unsafe for the likes of me. The world was becoming more digital reliant that a camera from a phone could alert my presence to the people looking for me. I had to keep my head down and covered by a cap when walking into shops and restaurants, needing to keep my face away from the viewpoint of security cameras.
It was going to be so much harder the closer I got myself in more populated areas.
Something had to be done about my appearance to throw off anyone looking for me. My face had been seen by the organization, and I had an inkling what certain changes had to be made.
My hair was brown with natural waves (nothing too curly that it made it hard to brush it), I was told I looked angry or upset when set naturally, and I wasn't all that fond with cosmetic products, deeming them a waste of time.
This felt like some beauty make-over intervention my mother and friends would be more than happy to assist in turning me into a different person that barely looked anything like the original.
'Well,' I huffed as I saw the truck heading into a town. 'Time to get busy then.'
Operation: Plain Jane was a go.
Paying for a haircut and getting my hair dyed a shade closer to blond was expensive that I was going to find myself sleeping in the streets soon if I didn't find some unsuspecting people to pinch money from soon.
I also needed to buy make-up to complete the whole new look but I couldn't, I was getting hungry (thankfully, it wasn't bad that I could probably last another day without food if the situation called for it. Changing into some clothes from my back in the salon's bathroom, I walked into the day that was slowly turning pink as hours rolled on by. Soon headlights were shining brighter, shops and street lamps were illuminated, and there was few people but the night folk who had come out to play.
And by "play" I meant go out drinking in nearby grill bars.
Mum warned me about men having too many drinks in a bar, never the place someone like me should ever be if I was looking to be undisturbed.
But, as I looked at the price of their menu, they cooked a lot of food for a cheap price.
And I did need to keep myself full.
With a calm breath, I swung open the door, wincing at the cowbells from above the door frame, and took in the entire scene. It was like a classical bar scene in most shows or movies, except instead of seeming to be dinky and seedy, it looked welcoming and somewhat warm. There was still a group of men huddle together, being noisy and laughing raucously, but as long as they were all the way over there then I felt confident that I was would be mostly okay. Only a few eyes turned to me but quickly lost interest and focused back to their table mates, the chatter thrumming in the room left me feeling like I was somewhat safe.
Taking a seat in a corner booth, I picked up the menu left on the table and looked over the cheap price selections that didn't go over $10. Not long, a brunette waitress in short denims and tight shirt that showed a bit of cleavage strode over to my booth with a pad and pen ready.
"Welcome to Hog's Grill Bar, I'll be yer waitress Sid," she greeted me with a smile. "Would you like to start with a drink or do you want to start orderin'?"
"Club sandwich, please," I meekly told her.
With my paranoia, I hadn't talked to a lot of people except with my boss back in Spain and Arturo. It had been too risky if a lot of people made contact with me, the possibility that they could get hurt made me feel sick that I had to play the part of an aloof foreign girl who didn't like to associate with people. There had been a lot of nice people back there, an old woman who would give me some free snacks after helping her groceries, a loud and funny man who liked to make people laugh with his "tricks" in the fruit aisle as he cut them samples for their disruptive children to try, and kind-hearted Arturo who risked everything to help me get away...
"Wow!" Sid's eyes brightened when she heard me speak. "Yer English?!"
I stared at her, eyes wide and mouth slightly left open. From the span of a few seconds, I formulated a way to work around this new problem.
If I had any plans to get further away from my original self, I had to throw away everything that had been formerly of my old life. I had to change my hair, my face, my voice, and my personality.
Besides, I had been living in California for awhile that I could pull off an American accent.
"Er, what...?" I tried again, my accent changing to something a little raspy and low (and Northern). "Do I really sound like that?"
"Oh, ah, sorry," Sid back-tracked, shaking her head and pointing at her ear. "Must be the damn jukebox playin', I can't really hear well."
Sid and I shared a laugh, agreeing that it was indeed loud (and thank God for that). Placing my order and drink for the waitress to give to the establishment's chef, the brunette turned away with a smile and left me by myself.
Waiting for food could have been a lot less boring if I had a phone or laptop. It used to drive me crazy when I didn't have anything electronic on me to keep me occupied, but now—
"What's a young little thing like you doin' all by herself?"
I stiffened as someone—not Sid—pulled up next to me at my booth. He looked like the typical bar goon, all big and wide with a grizzled face and a ball cap on his shaved head. I watched silently as he slid up on the chair in front of me, his blue eyes glazed and body lethargic that it didn't take much guessing (and smelling) that he was on the way of being some drunkard arse.
If it wasn't for this whole running-from-an-organization business, I would have straight out kicked this fucker off my booth and sent his sorry mess on the way back to his mates, being sure to make a scene that the other bar patrons wouldn't dare think about bothering a super-powered girl like me. However, life decided that I needed to take the hard road and left potholes for me to deal with by pretending not to be some super-powered girl who could level the whole place if she so wished.
"I'm not looking for trouble." I said, watching him.
He laughed, it was small and quiet, but it left me a little incensed.
"Fuck, girly, calm yer tits. I'm askin' cuz ya look like yer ready to bolt or somethin'."
Well, he wasn't exactly wrong about that; I had to be ready to run just in case. Aside from the crass language, the bigger man kept his distance and simply let his gaze wander all over the room rather than doing the typical thing such as trying to see through my clothes with his eyes. When I looked around, I saw that it was pretty crowded and barely any chairs left for him to go occupy instead. In fact, the more I noticed, the more I saw that people startled to enter inside and head straight for the gathering crowd.
"It's connin' night."
I turned back to him, hearing him speak up and his eyes were trained on the rowdy group that were gathered where there was a couple of pool tables and dart boards. There was people with their money out and shouting their bets on whatever they were gambling for.
"That's a stupid thing to do, throwing money away for some game." I said.
"Well, that's yer opinion," the man shrugged as he leaned further into the booth, eyes still trained on the group with laser focus I didn't think he could pull off while buzzed. "But at the end of the night, someone walks away with a lot of cash tucked in their pockets."
My frame froze when the words registered.
"And by someone, I mean the same one guy."
"Oh?"
Sid returned to my booth with a small basket full of warm fries and two half-cut pieces of a club sandwich pinned neatly by a toothpick. With a cup of water placed on the side, I immediately took in the delicious aroma of the club sandwich, mouth blossoming with thick saliva at just the mere sight of food.
"Heya Coop, you botherin' poor kids in yer down time?" Sid greeted the man across from me, friendly to the fellow but her eyes flickered towards me with concern as if silently asking if I was alright in the strange man's company.
"Couldn't find a damn seat for myself so I charmed my way to this one over 'ere." the man—Coop—explained to Sid.
It was getting crowded.
"Anything ya need, sweetie?" Sid asked, her attention directed towards me.
"I'm good," I told her. "Thanks."
"Just holler if ya need me." the woman said before turning to serve more customers waving for her attention.
While still wary of the man across from me, I focused my attention more on the crowds that became rowdy as time passed. Men gathered, all of them pulling out thick wads of cash as they watched a couple of men compete with darts. I watched as every dart used had each man reach for a tray full of shots, swallowing it quickly and trying again to hit the inner ring. One of the men, who was slim and shorter than his burly competition, was hitting his targets near the middle of the board while his companion either hit the other rings or just missed altogether, and it only got progressively worse from every intake of shot the man inhaled. It wasn't hard to predict who would win from that match.
Half the bar gathered at the other end groaned as they lost their money whilst the other half cheered. The short man walked away with barely a sway, his face smug as he was greeted like a hero to his mates, receiving pats... and cash.
"Fuckin' thievin' lil' shit." Coop grumbled, his eyes zeroed on the small man.
"Got some beef with him?" I asked, eyes darting between the two.
"That bastard only wins every time jus' cuz he's got a hoochie girlfriend who serves the drinks." he nodded towards the tall, leggy, and skimpy-clothed blond holding a serving tray, a bright and coy smile painted on her glittering lips.
"Didn't you say anything?"
There was no way anyone could have gotten away with such a scam so easily, but the look on Coop's face told me that nothing ever came easy.
"That little fuckard, Shep, has the place in his pocket. If he makes a lot of money, which he always does, he'll split it with the owner of the bar ... along with his other friends."
I looked towards the big, muscled, scary-looking bunch that accompanied the so-called champion. Those meat-headed giants would have deterred anyone, who had caught on to having their money stolen by the dodgy prat, from confronting the man. Coop and I continued to watch Shep strut around, almost having people eating out of the palm of his hands, and I could feel the anger brimming off of Coop in waves.
"How much do you think he wins a night?" I asked, voice low and quiet.
Coop didn't hesitate to give an answer, "Jus' 'bout a thousan' a night."
Ignoring the imaginary angel on my shoulder, screeching at me to stop and desist, the devil used her pitchfork to get me up on my feet and head towards the crowd. I didn't respond to Coop calling after me, his drunken footsteps stumbling from behind, and I didn't give acknowledgement to my waitress who kindly tried to stop me from going towards the scary crowd. I forced myself through the crowd, gritting my teeth as several men leered at me while the women made haughty laughs at my smaller form. I finally made it through the crowd, making it to the front where Shep and his crew stood.
My heart was racing like crazy, like bongos being beaten as the excitement of a moment came and captured the audience in suspense of the events about to unfold. Shep's wrinkled and grizzled face looked to my direction, his hazel eyes catching me and he knew immediately I did not belong, just as most of the patrons noticed my presence sticking out like a sore thumb. His lips broke out in a crooked smile, rattlesnake boots coming off louder as he walked across the boarded floors towards me.
"You lost, honey?" he asked, eyes tracing me and I felt my insides squirm.
"No, she's not." I heard Sid speak up from behind me, her hand grabbing me by my upper arm. "C'mon, sweetie, you're foods almost ready. Don't wanna leave it cold, do ya?"
That earned a round of laughter from the people watching, looking at me like I was a little child (funny how they thought that but most of them felt differently, if the way their eyes trailed over my form said anything). I never ordered another meal, but as much as I appreciated her care for my safety, I needed to do this. So, I didn't budge from Sid's insistent tugging.
"You're pretty good," I spoke, my voice low but Shep still heard. His eyes went towards the dartboard, a curl at the end of his lips told me he was very proud.
"I get that a lot, honey."
"And you get a lot of money, too." I added.
By now, a lot of people were beginning to understand my intentions of being here. I spotted Coop in the front of the crowd, watching with a glazed over look, surrounded by people who snorted at the concept of some dumb little girl challenging a pro.
"Sorry, baby girl, but I don't got time to play..." Shep looked over my head towards Sid, already dismissing me.
Before anything more could happen, I stepped forward and yanked out a fifty dollar bill. Eyes on the bill, I slowly stepped around him and towards the girl who held the money, offering it up like a sacrificial lamb to begin my trials against a demi-god. She hesitated, eyeing the money then looking towards Shep.
It looked like Shep needed motivation.
"Come on, man," I said turned to the other man. "If it makes you feel better, I'll chug a bottle of Johnnie Walker to help you get ahead."
Another bout of laughter came from the crowd, Shep's face morphing into something condescending behind the teeth he bared at me with a sharp smile. He walked up to me, eyes locked to my own while he moved right into my personal space as he pulled out a couple of hundred bills out.
"Lady's first." he nodded his head towards the dartboard.
Now I've gone and put my foot in my mouth. Just because I had superhuman strength, agility, and webs didn't actually mean I could possibly walk away from this situation scot free. It was always a very bad habit of mine, something that just happened when confronted with arseholes like Shep who took advantage of people with their scheming ways.
I once got in a nasty spat with a girl for harassing a poor and incredibly shy child that it almost came to blows, but it resulted in me being bullied so much that my family had to change schools for my sake. It felt like the coward's way out of an ugly fight, the number of girls pecking at me as they sided with that one girl, me against half the entire school, but it was like a breath of fresh air when we moved away. There was also the incident in which some knob head had been making unwanted sexual advances on women at the workplace, and when I had enough and called him out, threatening to report him to a higher up (like my dad), he turned out to be some high-ranking official: it resulted in me and my father having to go to court. I will never forget how incredibly furious my dad was, saying that he knew my intentions were good, but it almost costed him his job had it not been for the several brave women who stepped up to support us and win the case (also resulting on the pervert's quiet discharge).
This was my fight. No longer was there adults or back-up to pull me away when things got bad because this was me stepping up for myself for the first time. Coop, still being someone I didn't want to be alone with, had lost his money unfairly by the prick standing close to me (breathing down my neck and trying to see down my shirt), and I was not going to stand for it.
That, and this Shep fellow had a lot of money I could put to better use.
Taking the offered red darts some arse-licker pulled out, the tray full of shots was shoved to my face by the skimpy-clothed blond (who looked like she had spit in my drink for being in the same vicinity as her boyfriend). Praying that the metabolism in my system was working extra hard, I grabbed the glass and quickly downed it, wincing at the burn that coated my throat that I feared I would throw it back up.
"Need something more watery, baby girl?" the blond asked, voice like saccharine, but contempt and haughtiness found in her eyes and fake smile.
"If this is your strongest brand, hunny-bunny, then this is gonna end badly for you and your sugar daddy." I replied, focusing on the dartboard rather than my throat that felt like it had caught on fire.
So far, the alcohol had no effect on me other than the painful feel of something sharp dragging itself up and down my throat. Eyes on the dartboard, I pulled my arm back, narrowing on the target, then whipped it forward with my fingers releasing the hold and letting the dart fly—and land way off course.
"Yer right, sweetie," the blond snorted from behind me, the crowds laughing at the spectacle. "This is gonna end badly."
I said nothing, watching Shep step up, grab the shot glass the blond handed to him (after exchanging some gross eye-shagging with one another) and turned to the dartboard. He stepped to the throwing line, tossed me an exaggerated wink, then proceeded to throw his dart which hit near the center.
Having watched and observed his stance, his hands, and the way he threw his dart, I stepped up and grabbed the shot glass and chugged it back. Second round was just as awful as the first, but still, no effects to hinder me. The crowds behind me didn't both with exchanging money, just entertaining themselves with watching a little girl stumble over in the man cave. It burned a great fire from within me, a memory of me being left out of games by my brother because I was a girl who couldn't keep up with the boys... that I should stick to my dolls and make-believe fantasies.
What a load of crock.
I mimicked Shep's move, aimed for the dartboard, and let it loose. It felt awkward, something I knew from beforehand should have used time to practice before going on handling the big leagues, but there was no time. Despite the awkward throw, the dart landed much closer to the outer circle of the bullseye, on a black single. Shep's first dart had landed on a double, giving him a lead, and I knew what I had to do if Shep landed another double.
Another shot in his gut, he threw his dart... which unfortunately, as I had predicted, made it into the double. I could hear the unsubtle talks and jabs coming my way, some even booing as I stepped up to take my last shot.
As I focused on the dartboard in front of me, all I could think about was that I needed to win. Not for just the money, not just for pride, but because this was going to be the first tentative steps of being ahead of something bigger than me. The old me, while strong-willed, was totally naïve. The harassment at school, the close-call in the court room, and the near-death experience on the falling plane, every adult had to step in and push me forward to get to safety; two years away from being an actual adult and I still needed the adults to save me, but no more of that. Sid, the good waitress, was not going to become another one on my list.
With that in mind, I pulled my arm back, whipped it quickly forward and let the dart fly in inhumane speed until it struck true to its course.
All the mockery, jeering, leering, laughter, and general noise immediately died as they slowly began to register where the dart had landed. I turned towards the crowd, my face betraying nothing. Shep, along with half the entire bar, looked at me as if I had grown an second head.
"Lucky shot." someone said.
If that was the case...
I stopped the lady who held the prize money, not removing my eyes from the opponent in front of me. A swell of something in me festered and grew, a feeling all too new as I watched the man before me squirm slightly under my sharp gaze.
"Let's go again," I told Shep, mimicking his girlfriend's sweet smile. "You seemed really attached to that money."
There was a shift in the air coming from the crowd, some murmuring like ancient political figures sensing a doom in their emperor's incoming downfall of this new person who dared to challenge a man who praised himself a god, Shep did not hesitate to pull out more wads of cash and hand it to the girl. The small twitches from his fingers told me a little of how unnerved he was, his own eyes on me as he whispered something in his girlfriend's ear.
The blond left and soon returned with new filled glasses, and catching the scent of the glasses, I knew half the shots were much more stronger than the last. I said nothing, playing along as Shep gestured for me to take the first drink and aim.
Third round of letting the liquid version of sharp nails and bolts in my mouth felt much easier the first two times. The alcohol still did nothing, my mind was clear and my eyes were focused on the dartboard. I internally let out a laugh as my dart landed inside a triple, the volume of distress increasing on Shep's face, his girlfriend shifting nervously on her high heels as she too felt the shift in power. It really did feel like a Game of Thrones happening inside the room, the crowds becoming a court of lords as they saw their leader getting overwhelmed.
When it was Shep's turn, his aim landed him just a shy of landing on a triple, giving him a single. Coop's voice reached my ears, his drunken slur nearly gone from sobering in shock of the performance, as he placed a bet on me; that was when people started to take their bets seriously, a small portion betting the little girl over the champion, but some of Shep's loyal followers felt that the first time had been a lucky win.
Of course I dragged them a peg or two down when I landed on a double.
Shep gave as good as he got, landing on a double, but he was going to find himself another few hundred dollars short from his wallet as I landed on the outer ring of the bullseye. The game was mine, once again.
Second time defeated, Shep looked downright baffled. I swayed on my feet, leaning on nearby tables to make it look as if I was on the verge of collapse from mass consumption of strong beverage, but that probably didn't look too convincing for them. I was only acting like so from memories of my brother getting hammered from parties or visits in the local pubs/bars.
Again, I didn't take the money offered by the girl, just giving a condescending smile as I nodded to the dartboard. "Let's make this more interesting!"
"Interestin' how?" Shep demanded, voice tight. I walked closer to him so that my voice wouldn't reach the spectators.
"You pour the strongest drink you got on my side while you stick to your girlfriend's kid friendly brew." I nodded to his girl.
"I dunno what the fuck yer talkin' about—" Shep barked, but I cut him off with a finger to his face.
"You get your lil' girlfriend to pour the strongest brand to try and save face," I told him. "Because I'm going to milk you dry of all the money you're gonna lose tonight."
By now, Shep looked like he would pull back and take whatever money he had with him and leave, but that would mean his pride and face would be trampled and he would be known as a pussy by his peers. His reputation as the winner tossing him down the food chain, his schemes unfolded before everyone's eyes as he was beaten despite every tough alcohol thrown my way.
"What's the matter, pal?" I said out loud, letting everyone hear. "Too chicken? Can't put a couple thousands dollars down to put this lil' bitch back in her place?! Pok, Pok, POK!"
Crowing like a chicken seemed to do the work. The patrons called for both my blood and for Shep to man up and win the next round. I spotted an awful eye twitch going on, the corner of Shep's lips curling in a subtly snarl that I knew he wanted to wring my neck. My confidence and bold mannerism was rubbing him the wrong way, riling him up so bad that his manhood was being called into question by the court of drunks.
"Brenda!" he called his girlfriend, giving her a look that she caught on. She scarpered off, ready to pull the bitterest, gut-wrought, dirty drink she would serve to me.
I pulled away from him, smirking all the while, leaving him to squirm. He pulled out all the money in his pockets, roughly pushing them in the other girl's hands. His girlfriend—Brenda—returned and, quite rudely, pushed the three glass shots in my hands.
"Lady's first," I stepped away, letting him have the first try.
He was none to please with having his words thrown back at his face.
This was such a rush, though, poking buttons and leaving them to look like idiots for the entire crowd to see. I had often seen it in the movies or telly, wishing for myself that I was just as bold and witty as they were. Now, I was living it, and I loved it!
(everyone'sasavagedeepdown)
Shep threw back his head to swallow all three of his shots. Not caring if he was breaking the establishment's shot glasses, he unflinchingly threw them on the tray and aimed for the dartboard ahead of him.
"Let's do a little change up, sweetheart," he said, voice rough and low.
He let his hands fly: first dart landing in the outer bullseye ring, second dart landing in the triple ring, and the last landing in the double ring. Overconfidence was a bitch, first it was your friend then it left you high and dry as you faced the consequences.
Shep stepped back, his anger brimming but his swagger full-blown as he strode towards me, his head ducking low enough so that his quiet voice would reach my ears only. The bar was filled with an uproar, people already losing their money because of Shep's lead in the game, but I could still hear him like a siren in the quiet neighborhood streets.
"I put all my money's worth in that, so when I say I'm gonna milk ya with all yer worth... I'm not just talkin' 'bout the money anymore, sweet baby girl."
A feeling of sickness overcame me as I let the words sink in, my tongue almost tasting a bile rising from the back of my throat at the thought of being forced to eat my own words by—
"You try an' make a run for it, I'm gonna hunt ya down, honey." Shep warned me, hand gripping me tightly on my wrist under the guise of handing me my darts.
He pulled away from me, leaving me standing like a statue with a deer caught-in-the-headlights appearance. I knew I was stronger, I knew I can take on a small squad of armed people (if given the right circumstances and cover to do so), but still... the thought of someone coming to hurt me by trying to claim dominance over by the use of rape? Didn't matter if I could lift weights bigger than the world's strongest man and still not break a sweat, it was a terrifying thing to hear come from someone's mouth.
"Hey, step it up, girly." the betting girl nudged me, breaking me out of my dark spell.
'Don't let that get to you,' I shook my head, stepping to table holding my tray of shots. 'You may be the rabbit in this den of wolves, but you can still run!'
I let all three glasses slide down, my tongue accustomed to the sting as the harsh liquid came in contact with the wet appendage. I took a moment to catch my breath, steady my heart, and allow myself to tunnel my vision on the main goal.
I was here to win, to survive, and to eventually break myself free. Once I reach Manhattan, I will let the world know, and everyone will fight whilst I finally took a step down and allowed myself true rest.
No more running, no more hiding, and no more being afraid.
Shep was nothing.
(histhreatsarewordsYOUarethethreat)
I opened my eyes, and with no hesitation, I let my darts fly.
thunk! thunk! thunK!
All three stabbed viciously in the center of the dartboard. I bared my own teeth at the crowd, heart pounding as I said,
"Now give me my money."