England 2008

Aidan turned up her collar as she stepped out the rear door of the small arena. The security guard gave her a little nod, which she returned as she finished zipping her jacket the rest of the way up. It was a chilly night and she was exhausted. The show had capped off a brutal series of three per week for a month straight and her body was ready to give out.

She envied Belinda and Elsie for having their early matches, getting to bail before the night was fully over. Even though the flat wasn't all that far, she dreaded every moment of the walk. She just wanted to fall right into her bed and not wake up for a week or so.

Her gym bag felt like it was full of bricks where it dangled on her shoulder and bounced against her thigh with every step. Her entire back ached viciously where she had taken a chair shot while the ref was looking the other way. In spite of the pain, she felt alive and sort of... high, in a strange way she couldn't quite explain.

She passed the world by, or maybe it passed her by, as her feet carried her toward home at her own damn pace. She realized that she was nodding her head and humming “Sex on Fire” rather loudly, but she couldn't be bothered to give a fuck at the moment. Better than “Womanizer” again like she'd had in her head all morning.

Aidan was halfway home when she felt a hard yank on her shoulder. For a fraction of a second she thought she had let her bag get caught on something in her half-aware state, but that disappeared as the pull changed in direction and swung her into the brick wall of the building she was passing. She managed to get her hands up in time to keep her head from making contact.

Before she could turn around a thick forearm crushed across the back of her neck and pinned her to the masonry. She knew in an instant, by the smell of the cologne and the size of the body, who it was. The rage that swelled in her stomach was more at herself than anything, for letting her guard down.

“I've been behind you since you left the show, you stupid bitch, and you never even noticed. Not so tough now, are you?”

Pain lanced through her scalp as he grabbed a handful of hair and yanked her into the narrow alley between the buildings. She realized that he had been at the show and seen her match the moment he wrenched her arm around behind her in a sloppy hammerlock and cranked her hand all the way up between her shoulderblades. Hot agony radiated out on both sides, but she didn't even give a grunt to acknowledge it.

The knee to the chest was expected when he shoved her body downward by the hair. She exhaled on impact, keeping him from knocking the wind out of her, but she went down when he let go, because he expected it. Her hands came up to block a kick to the face, but she felt two fingers pop and the back of her left slammed right into her nose. The bleeding was instantaneous.

Then he was on top of her at the waist. Blake Ross, according to Elsie. Six-two, two thirty and change, vastly muscle. His face had mostly healed from the beating she had given him. Even with the chipped front tooth, he was still good looking by conventional standards, or so she supposed. He didn't look that great with his hand around her throat.

“It was none of your fucking business. The rest of you bitches should have just stayed out of it. Elsie was supposed to be my girl.”

“You're not... her type. She... fucking hates psychos.”

Tears filled her eyes as he squeezed harder and she could no longer get any air at all past his grip. Instead of trying to pry his fingers off, which she knew she could never manage, her hands both began to search to either side. It didn't matter what, she just wanted to get a grasp on something. A brick, a broken beer bottle, a handful of dirt, it didn't matter.

But all she could feel was pavement. She heard the flick of a knife, and her eyes went wide. He sneered as he held it up, making sure she saw it first. The impact against her stomach was hard, and her eyes went wider.

She choked on the first breath she tried to take when his hand came free. Both of hers instantly went to cover where the knife had torn through her jacket to the side of her navel. She wheezed, staring up at him in disbelief as he just grinned in return.

Everything was a haze as she struggled not to let her head drop back against the ground. She couldn't make her limbs move to try to roll over. The whimper she gave when he grabbed her hair and pulled her up so that they were face to face would have been humiliating if she was focused on anything other than the fact he had just stabbed her.

“Now, just so the very last thing you think about is what is going to happen to your little friend...”

Aidan gagged as his tongue shoved into her mouth, tasting of her own blood, cheep bear, and scumbag. Her head did hit the ground when he let go, and everything started to go black.

 

 

- - - - -

 

New York, January 3rd, 2016

Aidan shouldered the door to the condo open hard and practically had to walk in backwards in order to pull Elsie along with her. The blonde hadn't stopped sobbing the entire way home. First in the car until it was abandoned, then on the walk to where they called a cab outside a club, the entire cab ride, and three blocks more to the condo. Aidan was starting to worry she was going to wake the neighbors up, and more goddamn trouble, even petty squabbles over noise, was not what she wanted.

The white dress and heels she had worn to her failed dinner attempt were lying on the floor not far inside the door. Hitting the steakhouse with Wölf Blïx was supposed to have killed time while she waited for the meeting with Frankie Mendoza, a distraction from the incoming shit storm. But even that had been a disaster. She had been surprised to see Mendoza there, and while she didn't think the Italian had seen her, she was going to operate as though he had so it didn't come back to bite her in the ass. 

What she had expected even less was the big Swede's reaction. She played it cool and ignorant, but she was far from either. She knew what had set him off, she just hadn't pressed it. She didn't want to know even the tiniest details of his problems. She didn't need someone else's trouble on top of her own—and now Elsie's—as well.

It was hell trying to hold up Elsie at the same time she leaned over to unzip her boots, pushing them off the opposite foot with her toes. She freed herself from her jacket as well before she pried Elsie out of her heels. She was a sobbing, sniffling, ruined-makeup covered, hysterical mess that wouldn't be reasoned with, but she followed blindly. That, at least, helped matters.

Aidan guided her down the hall and into the spacious bathroom off of the master bedroom. The blonde was deposited on the closed toilet lid to sit while Aidan turned on the shower and held her hand under the jets until they got hot. As she looked at Elsie, she could only sigh. It wasn't worth the fight.

She pulled the other woman back up and right into the walk-in shower fully clothed. The water rained down as Aidan got them both sat down on the floor, hair and clothes all instantly soaked. She leaned her own head back against the tiled wall as she pulled Elsie's down onto her shoulder, running her fingers through the tangled blonde hair.

“I'm sorry!”

It was the same shrill shriek that Aidan remembered so well, making her ears ring.

“I'm so sorry. I'm sorry Aidan. God I'm sorry.”

“Elsie, sssh. Stop, just stop.”

“I am. I really am. I'm so sorry for everything.”

Aidan drew in a long sigh, closing her eyes, as her hand shifted, covering Elsie's mouth firmly but gently.

“Ssshhh. I don't want to hear any more apologies.”