Rejection Denied

Boom Boom Boom!!

“Aviry! I know you’re in there!”

Boom Boom Boom!!

“It’s the first of the month! The rent is due today! No more chances, pay up or get the fuck out! Do you hear me!”

Three moods. Neutral, violent, murderous. These three moods are the only ones I care to feel. I can go from one frame of mind to another before you can even blink an eye. And right now, I’m feeling violent. One phase away from a murder charge.

Here I am, lying in bed asleep. Am I bothering anyone? No. Not yet, at least, but I swear if that bitch Pete bangs on my door one more time...

Boom Boom Boom!!

Ugh!!!

“I’m fucking serious, Aviry—” Pete didn’t get a chance to finish.

I swung my door open, snarling in the face of my next victim. Pete, sure he’s taller than me. Beer gut belly, wife-beater with yellow stains, and armpit sweat. A disgusting species of the male gender.

“You’ll have your rent money BEAST!!” I growled. “I’ll be sure to have it by the end of the day. And when I find you, I’ll shove it down your fat ass neck. And to ensure you have it all, I’ll force you to count it back out to me with only your tongue. Just like a fucking ATM machine!”

I slammed the door in his face and pushed my black hair out of my face.

I looked around my small ass prison/apartment. Honestly, I should be paid to stay in this hell hole.

There are literally four walls with a tiny peephole window. My living room and bedroom have two furniture pieces. I have a mattress from the alley and a crate that serves as my dining table and nightstand. The kitchen is newly renovated. I have a mini-fridge with a new light bulb and a cleaner microwave. Finally, my bathroom a toilet that rattles when it flushes and a shower that continually leaks. Above the sink, I installed my own mirror using a shard of glass duck taped to the wall.

I have a few roommates, but they live in the walls and don’t bother me much. The occasional scurry across the wood floors or the ones trying to steal my day-old Chinese food get dealt with promptly.

Well, this is all I can afford, so fuck it. It’s slightly better than the streets. I laid back down on my mattress and unplugged my phone from the charger. Nothing fancy, a prepaid that’s still touch screen.

“Damn it! It’s only twelve in the afternoon.” I groaned into my arm, covering my eyes. I just wanted to sleep in a little. I got back late from my “job” last night. It’s not legal, but it pays, and I don’t have to worry about paying most of it to the government.

I’m a street fighter and a damn good one. I don’t lose, and that’s mainly due to my murderous mood in the ring. My only goal is to release as much negative energy as I can. The money I win is just a bonus.

Why am I so angry? Well, for starters, I was abandoned as a baby in the middle of the woods. So there’s that bullshit... Once I was found, I started my foster care saga. In total, I’ve lived in forty-seven different homes. Most, and by most, I mean forty-six of them were horrible. In my last house, my host died of a heart attack during my first week. So I can’t judge him.

Not my fault.

But before I was sent to lucky number forty-eight, I ran away. I was turning eighteen in a month anyway, a legal adult. I tried to get a typical job, but my anger issues prohibited me from interacting with people who pissed me off. So I fight, I get paid, and I can release my anger. In my book of Aviry Mills fucked up life, that’s a win.

“Ugh!! Fuck you, Pete.” I rolled off my mattress and crawled to my bathroom; lifting myself up using the toilet, I looked in my makeshift mirror.

I have a permanent scar through my left eyebrow. And a new cut above my lip from my last fight. My eyes are unique, and honestly, they freak me out. My right eye is light gray, and my left is light blue. My hair is black and comes down my shoulders. I have more than a few split ends, and I wash it every other week.

I’m not gonna say I deserve to be on the Playboy cover, but I still turn heads. Dressing down in oversized clothes and refusing to wear make-up helps keep my appearance under wraps. I don’t want any attention for my looks. That usually ends in heartbreak for my lover when they find out that I’m a demon with a heart of ash.

I turned the sink water on and waited for the brown coloring to turn clear. After I washed my face and brushed my teeth. I turned the shower on and got undressed. My body’s only other mark is a small crescent moon birthmark on my right shoulder.

I finished showering and looked at my phone. I had one new text from Mark, my manager. He lets me know when and where my next fight will be. He’s not exclusive so he has other fighters on his roster, so he only takes three percent of my cash.

Mark-12:38 pm Wed

Juniper Alley, 9 pm, 1 round

Me-12:48pm

Ok.

We aren’t friends. I don’t have those. I have myself, and I talk to the voice in my fucking head. That’s the closest thing I have to a friend. When I say that I’m alone and only have myself, that’s just how it is. I can have a conversation with myself, and I’m content. I’m the only one that can handle all of me. Right?

“That’s right, you crazy bitch.”

I walked to my mini-fridge, grabbed a frozen burrito, and placed it in the microwave. After pressing the start button multiple times, I passed the time by adding a few new songs to my playlist.

It’s not much, but this is my life. And I wouldn’t change a damn thing. I like my simple, non-complicated, drama-filled bullshit life. I’m not obligated or responsible for anyone except myself. I’ve grown to accept that somewhere in the process of my creation, I wasn’t given a purpose.

So, here’s how the rest of my day went...

I ate the burrito. And then moved my dirty clothes from the mattress to the corner of the room. Making a promise to myself to remember to wash soon. I cleaned up some trash off the floor and took it out to the dumpster. I bumped into Old Lady Linda on my way back to my place.

“Aviry, how’s it going, sweetie.” Now Linda is a lovely person. And I can recognize a good soul when I sense it. Me, on the other hand...

“I don’t deserve your kindness. Please kindly leave me alone.” I walked away back to my place.

“Damn harsh much, she was just trying to converse with you.”

“And I kindly refused to converse.” I rolled my eyes at my inner self.

You see, conversations with good souls lead to friendships and other feelings. I don’t have time for either one. So, it’s best if I stay neutral and block everyone out. I know you think I’m a bitch. But I never claimed I wasn’t. I’ve always been like this; it’s one of my defenses.

When I got back inside, I laid down and turned on my meditation playlist to prepare for my fight tonight. The first song that played- “Shatter Me- Lindsey Sterling.”

At some point during my meditation, I fell asleep. And, now it’s an hour before the fight. I feel rested and energized.

“Let’s go kick some ass!” I shouted. I rapidly punched the air and stood up from my mattress.

I pulled my hair into a ponytail and pulled on some black basketball shorts and a black fitted tank top. I pulled on a hoodie and placed my cellphone in my pocket.

I left my place and walked down the stairs toward the front entrance. I paused outside the manager’s office and spotted my victim at his desk. His head was thrown back on the chair while his right arm was jerking rapidly. His laptop was open and he was wearing earphones. I can only guess the bastard was working himself off.

Too bad, his night will be ruined when I come back to pay my rent.

Yeah, that’s right, I meant what I said. Pete is going to be transformed into a human piggy bank as soon as I get back.

“He’s only doing his job.” My inside voice scoffed.

“Yeah, well, he pissed me off in the process. And don’t defend that disgusting troll.”

My voice retreated to the back of my mind as I continued out the front door. Juniper alley is 30 minutes away on foot. That gives me time to think of a strategy and grab a hotdog on the way.

“Hey, darling. You got something for me?” I side glanced at the slim, filth walking behind me.

“Does it look like I have anything to give?” I continued walking. Lucky for him, I’m still neutral.

“Maybe not here on the streets. But if you come home with me, I can search you in private.”

Ok...Violent mode activated.

“Woops, I found something in my pocket for you babe.” I stopped walking and turned to face my current prey. “Come closer...”

“Your such a pretty little minx. I have something sweet—” I pulled my hands from my pocket and sucker-punched him right in the nose. I was satisfied to hear a crunch and enjoyed watching him double over in pain, holding his nose.

“You little—” I grabbed him by the back of his neck and slammed his face into the brick wall beside us.

“You little what?” I seductively whispered.

SLAM!!

“Gracious angel from heaven? I mean, I did give you a free nose job.”

SLAM!!

“Or maybe Goddess of my dreams?” SLAM!! I pulled his head back by his hair.

“After tonight, be careful who you approach.” SLAM!! His body slumped to the ground. “Not everyone is as nice as me...baby.” I kissed his bloody cheek and left his unconscious body on the sidewalk.

“He’s still breathing easily.” My inside voice seethed.

“Yeah, I know it’s unfortunate. But we’re going to be late if we don’t leave now.”

I looked around my surroundings. Luckily for them, no one was nearby. I’m not above threatening the innocent. But in a town full of druggies and low lives everyone knows to keep their mouth shut about certain things. That’s why I settled down here.

Hell, even the police don’t get involved unless there’s a body. I mean, we’re surrounded by dense dark woods, so I’m pretty sure there are dumping grounds out there. And if there are bodies after a few days they’ll be mangled by wild animals.

“Shit. I’m gonna be late.” That little warm-up has put me in the mood to kick it up a gear during my fight tonight. Juniper Alley is just a few blocks away. And my next victim is patiently waiting for my arrival.