This week’s The Red Dress Club writing prompt was to describe a fight, fiction, or not. I hope you enjoy.
“Shelby, you broke my nose!” Tara seethed with clenched teeth.
“Maybe next time, you’ll keep your big mouth shut.” I did some seething of my own.
It could have been a scene straight out of a movie but it was happening, really happening, to me. I was honest to God standing in the middle of a muddy lot, rain pouring down, thunder pounding and lightening flashing, lighting the scene with an eerie electric glow.
My clothes were soaked through and my hair trailed across my cheek and neck in thick, wet strands, whipping up as the wind shifted.
I kept my stance wide, keeping my balance low and level so that I couldn’t be shoved and pummeled to the ground. My legs were slightly bent and I was sort of proud of myself that even if I lost this freakin’ fight; I’d look good going down.
Tara stood in front of me a little worse for the wear. She wasn’t deserving of my pent up anger tonight but she was getting the full force of everything I was feeling. She was an incidental, but she was by no means innocent. A slow smile spread across my bloodied lips as I thought how she could have never bargained for the beat down she’d just received.
It had been a reckless night for me, drinking too much and caring too little. Daring someone, hell anyone, to challenge me. These kinds of nights had been a way too frequent an occurrence lately, ever since, well ever since it happened. And tonight, after a few days of no sleep, a lot of fury and a fierce feeling of being betrayed, that I’d finally let loose.
If Tara had known my acid mood, she would have never approached me, alone at the far dark end of the bar, working on my third straight bender. She should have seen the malice shining in my eyes and she should have just turned right around and left well enough alone. Tara wasn’t the sharpest knife in the block. So I took it upon myself to teacher her a lesson. I raised my fists for her final exam.
“Wait. Shelby, you don’t want to do this.” His voice still managed to send shivers down my spine.
“Stay out of this Wade.” I spun to him, my fighting stance looking better and better. “Unless you want me to beat your ass.”
Wade held out a hand to me and Goddammit I wanted to take it. I wanted to crumple into his arms and end the hell that’s been ruling my life. I slowly lowered my fists in defeat. I knew I couldn’t win. I knew this wasn’t Tara’s fight to lose; it was mine.
Tara recognized the opportunity rather as one to flee rather than fight and sprinted back to the bar we’d exited. It was over, she was gone and I was still here, with Wade.
He approached me slowly and wrapped his large hands around my still clenched fists. He leaned down until his forehead touched mine.
“You are a crazy chick.” His voice was low and a little raspy from a little too much whiskey. Apparently, he’d been seeking answers in a bottle as well. “But I still love you. Come home babe, we’ll make this right.”
I sniffled my assent. We would make this right.