Chapter Text
Alex’s head flew to the side as knuckles connected with the flesh of her cheek. Her back hit a brick wall and she grinned, tongue feeling for any broken teeth. Thankfully, there were none, saving her a trip to the dentist. It wasn’t like she had the money for it, anyway. Another fist came flying at her face and she ducked, the fist hitting the wall. One of the men cursed, she assumed the one the fist was connected to.
Though technically, Alex started it. Some people didn’t take very kindly to being pickpocketed. She was on the third guy by the time the first one noticed his wallet was missing. Normally, she’d have been able to get away. Hell, she probably could have gotten away this time. But she guessed her death wish outweighed her street logic, and now here she was.
She ducked a kick from the second man, grabbed his leg and twisted. Obviously none of them had any fighting experience, as they were about to get their asses handed to them by a sixteen-year-old girl. It was like they had only ever seen movie fighting; they took turns attacking and aimed for her face, rather than somewhere vulnerable.
She shoved the leg she was holding, and the guy it was attached to hit the wall, head taking the brunt of the impact. He dropped to the dirty alley street like he got hit with a rock.
Guy number one and guy number three looked at their friend for a second before moving. Guy number one ran to guy number two, and guy number three lunged at Alex, being the only one to land a hit so far. Too bad this wouldn’t be a fair fight.
She sidestepped and elbowed him in the back. The man grunted and turned, swinging a right hook at Alex’s side. She huffed with the impact, only moving an inch to the right. He hadn’t hit her hard enough to break anything, but it would definitely bruise. Alex retaliated, aiming an uppercut to his jaw. The man’s head snapped up and he stumbled back a few steps, and her knuckles throbbed. It took him a moment, but the man shook it off and came back at her, but she twirled out of the way, thanking her father for all of those ballet lessons he made her take before he died.
Not a second later, though, she was cursing herself for her forgetfulness. The man grabbed the end of her long blonde hair and yanked, and this time it was Alex’s turn to stumble backward. Rule number one: Always put your hair up before a fight. The man got his hand around her throat and shoved her against the cold brick. Her hands scrabbled for purchase on his wrist, latching on after only a moment. She took a fraction of a second to collect herself — as much as she could manage in her current position. The minute opposite force against the man’s arm allowed her to gasp in a breath, which was all she needed.
Alex lifted her feet off of the ground, putting her full one hundred and fifteen pounds onto the man’s arm. She kicked out with her feet, hitting the man directly on his knees, and shoved the hand holding her throat up at the same time. The man flailed, falling onto the unforgiving concrete, face-first. She heard a sickening crunch that she assumed was man number three’s nose; but she wasn’t going to wait around to find out.
She bolted. On her way out she saw man number one move away from man number two, toward man number three. Alex didn’t see what happened next, bursting out of the mouth of the alleyway. The busy Chicago street was crowded at two in the afternoon, and she easily lost herself in the throngs of people. Alex stayed hidden until she was sure she wasn’t being followed, then took back roads until she got to her apartment building on the South Side.
The building was rundown brick and yellow siding, but it was sturdy and cheap. At times like this, when she was bruised and bleeding, she regretted getting an apartment on the third floor. That meant three stories of stairs to climb up, and her building didn’t have an elevator. Alex rounded the last corner and mustered up the energy to climb the stairs. This by far wasn’t the worst state she’d ever been in when she’d had to make the trip, but it was still annoying. The first flight of stairs was almost nothing; only a little residual soreness in her thighs. The second flight had her wheezing slightly, causing a dull sting to wash over her ribcage. She tried to push it out of her mind on the third flight, but she still wrapped an arm around her waist for security.
Alex almost cried out in joy when her apartment door came into view. She leaned against it heavily as she dug her keys out of her pocket, resting her face against the cool wood. When she found her keys and pulled back, there was a light smear of blood across the door. She took a moment to feel her face with slightly shaking hands, blood covering her fingertips when they brushed across her cheekbone. She pressed around the cut gently; if it needed stitches, she was going to break something.
Sighing, she stuck her key in the lock and was about to turn it when she heard the murmur of voices inside. Tensing subconsciously, Alex pulled out the four-inch folding blade from her boot. Because exactly what she needed was another fight.
She turned the key as silently as possible. Steadying herself, she threw open the door and jumped through, brandishing her knife and ignoring the twang in her ribs. What she got was not what she expected, and much more welcome. First she noticed James, with his hand moving toward his back for the gun he kept hidden there. Next was Sara, looking as radiant as ever, sitting on Alex’s couch. By the time Alex thought to lower her knife, Sara was already moving forward, pushing past James, subtly bringing his arm back around, and met Alex where she was. Sara wrapped her hand around Alex’s on the handle of the knife and brought it down.
Alex gathered her wits and hastily folded the knife back up, tossing it onto the couch. She looked at Sara, at a loss for words. Sara just smiled her literal award-winning smile and simply said, “Hi.”
Alex smiled back, trying not to get choked up, and said, “Hey. Sorry I tried to stab you. I thought you were intruders.” She had to maintain her aloof façade somehow.
Sara laughed, like rain on a window, and squeezed the hand that was still around Alex’s. “It’s fine. I can see you’ve had a bad day.”
Yeah, it had been a bad day; until now, that is. She hadn’t seen Sara for nearly two months — today was great in her book. “Yeah,” Alex agreed, nodding. “I’d hug you but I don’t want to get blood on you. Three assholes jumped me, so I stole their wallets.”
Alex could see a gleam of worry flash through Sara’s lavender eyes, but Sara stepped aside as Alex headed toward her small bathroom. She gave James a high-five on the way, meaning they would catch up later. Sara followed her into the bathroom, leaving the door open for James’s peace of mind. He was Sara’s hired bodyguard, though he’d do the job voluntarily. The three of them had grown up together, even though they weren’t completely grown up now. Alex was sixteen—nineteen on a good day; Sara was eighteen and James was twenty-two.
In the bathroom, Sara sat delicately on the old, stained toilet, giving Alex her much-needed-but-not-so-much-appreciated space. Alex flicked on the light and stood in front of the mirror, stripping off her torn and dirty t-shirt. Left in a sports bra and jeans that were riding precariously low on her hips, she assessed the damage.
Before she could get very far in her stock-taking, she heard Sara gasp and stand, coming up behind her. She pulled up the too-long sleeves of her sweater — Alex’s, she now realized. Even though Alex was the youngest, she was still bigger than Sara, with broader shoulders and more muscle mass.
Sara gently laid her perfectly manicured fingertips on the large bruise covering Alex’s ribs. Her back was littered with bruises from being thrown against the brick wall multiple times, and the backs of her elbows were scraped and bleeding. Alex had a ring around her throat from the guy’s hand, and another bruise was forming on her cheek, along with a cut that was bleeding — the one that had gotten blood on her door that she would have to remind herself to clean up later. Sara’s hands hovered over Alex’s skin, not sure where was okay to touch.
“Did the guys jump you first,” Sara asked quietly, finally settling her hands on Alex’s hips, “or did you steal their wallets first?”
Alex sighed, feeling much older than she actually was. “Do you really want the answer to that question?”
“Alex,” Sara sighed, voice growing firm and making Alex flinch slightly, so Sara softened it again. “You know if you ever need help, you can just ask.”
She shoved Sara back a step — probably a bit too roughly — so she could get to the old rags and first aid kit under the sink. “No. You already took care of so much for me, with Dad’s funeral and Mom’s hospital bills. I can handle my own goddamn rent.” Alex slammed the kit and rags on the counter, meeting Sara’s eyes in the mirror. Alex had to look up slightly, because Sara was nearly two inches taller than Alex’s five-seven in her heels. “So you can go wait for me,” Alex continued, angrily spilling the contents of the first aid kit on the counter, “or you can take off those ridiculous shoes and help me. Your choice.”
Sara held Alex’s eyes for a second before nodding, bending down to pull her heels off and throw them out into the living room. Without her heels and with Alex wearing boots that bumped her up an inch, they were the exact same height. Sara pulled Alex’s too-big sweater over her head and hung it over the shower wall, leaving her in an old cami, that was also Alex’s.
Alex chuckled as much as her ribs would allow. “What did you do,” she mused, “come here and immediately change into my clothes?”
“Yeah,” Sara said, stone-faced. Damn her A-list acting abilities. “That’s exactly what I did.”