The brimming joy in Anna's soul sprouts a little flower the entire week. Even when Elsa returns to her usual cold, unapproachable self. It finally blooms when she drives to a community town hall in upstate New York. There's hardly any advertising for the College Fight Series. Nor any sign of an event happening besides a line of cars parked outside the brick building. She nearly wonders if she'd gotten place wrong.

She hasn't. A boxing ring graces the centre of the hall. With a surrounding square of chairs and tables for timekeepers. Anna spies a tin bucket and a rag perched at the side, and wonders, heart in throat, if it's used to clean up the blood. There's already a buzz of officials and spectators streaming in. But the entire proceeding resembles an examination rather than a fight.

"Yo, Anna!" Kristoff calls out to her. He's in jeans and a collared shirt, something besides sweatpants for once.

"So glad you could make it!" he pumps her hand up and down like they're meeting for the first time, "This is really important."

"Uh, that's great Kristoff - but why exactly-"

"Elsa needs all the support she can get, especially from you," Kristoff answers, "and you get to see a real fight for once!"

Anna's eyes widen. She opens her mouth to ask why but he's already darted back behind a huge curtain.

That little interaction last week never left her. Elsa's words play repeatedly in her brain throughout every lesson. Every bowl of oatmeal and every punch she'd thrown in training. She clings onto that feeling again. Holding it in her arms as two guys mount the ring. The sudden ring of a bell snaps her from her fantasy.

She jerks again at the first thwack of leather on flesh. The dudes go at it hard. The utter silence draping the hall makes every contacting punch sound like firecrackers. Thwack thwack thwack. Ding! Cornermen douse their fighters with water. She recognises Kristoff helping Zangief with a swollen forehead and before he can do much, the Russian dude steps back in for another round. Apart from some abortive bursts of cheering when the action heats up - only the smack of fists and that rumbling footwork echoes across the hall.

Zangief wins after three rounds, hand raised in the air. There's scarcely any pride on his face and his nose leaks crimson. Anna has no idea how they counted the score but Kristoff looks happy as all hell. And Anna. Is still trying to untangle that knot around her chest as she anticipates the next fight.

Elsa.

She marches up the ring, dressed in a red tank top and shorts. They've barely spoken since that terse encounter outside the sports center. Reverting back to her Ice Bitch persona as she trains for this fight. Elsa's opponent from NYU looks mean. A couple of inches shorter but packing at least ten more pounds of muscle. A stirring sense of indifference stirs within the blonde's face as she stares over her dark-skinned opponent's shoulder.

Ding.

Anna's eyes widen when they start fighting. For real. Every shot staggers Elsa and she's clearly keeping her distance. Kristoff screams his head off. Outside, outside! Jab! Jab! She has no idea how Elsa keeps up. But she does. Two rounds in and the other girl slows down. Elsa, on the other hand, appears like she's taking a stroll to class.

She's on the verge of winning. Anna wrings her hands, counting down the seconds left in the last round. That dance Elsa's been shuffling the entire match catches up to her, and Anna notices her opponent's eyes dart downwards.

She's reading Elsa's feet.

Elsa makes the same, circular movement outside just one too many times.

Crack.

The right hook doesn't even register until Elsa slams on the canvas.

The referee waves. The bell rings. Anna bolts up before she hears a chorus of gasps. Her lungs harden to stone.

Kristoff plunges into the ring with a towel.

And all at once Anna feels herself hurtling into adolescence, watching Paramedics carry Iduna's limp body into the pouring rain.


"No matter what happens, stay in your room," Iduna's voice trembles, "be brave for me, ok?"

"Mom, no-"

"Don't come out, even if-"

"Stop-"

Iduna's hands close around her shoulders, and she detects an immense strength in those flexing fingers. A strength she's honed over the years.

"This is the last time, I hope," Iduna mumbles, before putting on a leather jacket. Anna's eyes water when she realises what it means. Her gut swirls with disgust and bile rises up her throat at the thought of her mother getting ready for a beatdown. Like a knight putting on armor. Just that the damsel in distress is herself. She leaps up. But Iduna's already closed the door in her face.

"Please, mom," Anna's voice drops to a pinpoint, clutching the knob and watching her ride off into battle.

Iduna means it as a whisper. She hears it anyway. Three words booming through the house like the last roar of a dying lioness.

"We're leaving you."

"What?" Agnarr yells back.

Anna leans a little further past the door's crack. She wants to plug her nose from the reek of whiskey. She wants to shut her eyes, stop her ears with cotton wool. But the desperate hands reaching out to her mother's shadow force her to watch. Filling in the imaginary gaps from their hushed conversation. It's not going well. Shadowy Agnarr waving his hands about and cowering his wife backwards out of reach of anything resembling a bottle.

"You know it's you," Iduna argues, "I've had enough of this torment - Anna needs a place where she can feel safe-"

"Torment?" Agnarr yells back, "Is the money I bring back torment? Have you forgotten your fucking place you bitch-"

"Stop, please-" the words leave Anna's covered mouth in a hushed scream.

They step out of view. She shuts her eyes anyway. Furniture rattle and she hears Iduna scream. Stay in your room, no matter what happens.

Her heart cracks, and Anna tells herself the pain is her penance. For letting her mother go through this alone. Blood floods her mouth and she realises she's been biting down on her tongue. Trying to keep silent. Iduna screams again. A bump. She crawls into view, hair dishevelled and the jacket rent from her shoulders. Be brave, Anna.

Be brave.

How could she be brave behind a door while her mother's blood smears the parquet floor?

That slap cracking through the house snaps her to her senses. She storms out the room with clenched fists and charges at Agnarr right as he rears his hand up.

"Stop!" Anna seethes, shoving him backwards so hard that he stumbles. She stands between them. And Iduna pulls her away. Tears and bruises and that defeat rife in her eyes.

"You little shit-"

The fingers wrapping around her throat wrench so tight she knows it'll bruise. Right before she's hurled into the kitchen like a rag doll. Anna leaps to her feet and gets slapped so hard her vision flashes white. She bolts upright again. But he already has a frying pan in hand. And he's standing over her mother.

All courage deserts Anna. She crumples into a ball on the ground. Shutting her eyes and ears for what's coming next. Wishing she never hears another one of her mother's screams.

But she does.

Every last one of them. Until she falls silent altogether.


"So, yes," Anna clasps her hands together, trying to keep from shivering too much, "that's the story of why my mother has a titanium jaw. And why my dad's in prison."

Dr Robinson nods slowly. Pausing to pat Anna's knee. Probably not as a measure of comfort, but just to see how badly she's shaking.

"You're very brave to go through all that and still have the courage to talk about it."

"I wasn't," A snivel bubbles up her throat, but she swallows it down. No more tears, Anna.

"You got out of your room and stood between an abusive man and your mother," Robinson adds, "and how old were you? Sixteen? He must've towered over you."

"I was afraid, I guess," Anna answers, "but I was more afraid of what he was going to do to her-"

Robinson removes her glasses, "It wouldn't be called bravery if there wasn't any fear involved. It'd just be a walk in the park. You were terrified. And yet you still took a stand."

Anna shakes her head. Teeth grit. And that prickly feeling surges back so hard it spills a fresh trickle of tears. Heat spreads and she covers her face. Ashamed at breaking down again. Robinson shifts closer and leaves a box of tissues. Waiting for the sobbing to stop.

"Take as much time as you need."

Anna reaches for a tissue and blows her nose. Reddened eyes fixed on another damp spot she's left on the carpet. This time, the tears wash the fog from Anna's mind.

"I just," Anna wipes her eyes, "god - I don't know where to start or end."

"It's been a while since the incident occured," Robinson suggests, "have you discovered a new perspective by recounting it?"

Anna swallows hard and looks away, "Every time he hit me, I never had an issue getting back up - like he'd never hurt me at all."

"This might be a hypothetical, but it's important to help in your healing process. Why do you think it's affecting you the way it does?"

"It affects me because, each time I couldn't stop him," Anna flicks her head back at Robinson, "someone else got hurt."


That throbbing pain in Anna's chest intensifies when she spots Elsa outside the town hall by the Hudson river. Leaning on the railing overlooking the glittering Newark city lights. Her heart clenches. Too soon? Invisible hands reach out to that lonely figure standing in the cold breeze. Already dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants. She's compelled beyond all the icy persona and adoration to approach her. Just as another human being.

Elsa notices Anna. She doesn't scowl or slink away. Just turns her head forward and keeps staring into the distance.

"Hey," Anna whispers, "A-are you alright? That looked like a horrible-"

"I'm fine," Elsa cuts her off, "It's nothing, I've eaten shots like that before."

"Are you sure-"

"Yes," the voice drips with icy cold indifference, before it softens, "g-god that was a dumb way to lose though."

Anna curls her fingers into her jeans. That look in her face. All broken like her cold-steel facade might shatter at any moment. It puts another crack in Anna's heart.

"I'm so sorry you lost," Anna whimpers, "you totally had her in the first two rounds."

Elsa sighs. For the first time, that trace of vulnerability shows itself. She's not all that strong she makes herself out to be. But instead of repulsing Anna, all it does it drag her deeper by her side. An indescribable longing boils within Anna to know her. Every bit about this blonde woman's life. All her unspoken fears and mysteries behind the facade. But a lingering fear to send those walls flying up again seals her mouth shut. Courage deserts her. She contents herself with standing by her side and staring into the night cityscape.

"I-I actually bou- I mean, I have something for you," Elsa whispers, "But I never got around to giving it-"

Anna perks up.

"You w-what?"

Elsa retrieves a pair of boxing gloves from her duffel bag, "It's just a pre- I mean it's something I want to give you. You really gotta stop using those kiddy gloves."

The dark pink 12oz leather gloves steals her breath. Anna's jaw drops. She tries making a few incoherent words but finds herself stumbling over each one. Before she finally mouths.

"Thank you," Anna answers, "B-but why?"

Elsa shrugs, "My high school coach's going away present - I'm too used to my own gloves though."

It's pristine and flawless. Unused. Tags still attached. Anna traces the faint outline of a lion behind the EVERLAST logo. Courage. Her fingers press little dents in the cushioning.

"You didn't have to-"

"I wanted to," Elsa cuts her off, before shoving her hands back into her pockets, "train as hard as you can, alright?"

Before Anna can say anything else, Elsa wanders off into the night. Leaving her standing there with a heart full of hope and the most dangerous thought on earth sprouting into her mind.

I might actually have a shot with her.