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Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Action/Adventure · #1684536
Poor soldier challenges Erika. Bad mistake.
1





You know one of those days where you feel like crap and you just want to beat someone up?

No? Well I do. Everyday. And this is the only time it’s actually ok for me to do that.

“Get in your fighting stances”, Sergeant Carl, our drill instructor for our age group ordered.

I put my left foot in front of me on the mat, my right foot behind and held up both fists up. My right protecting my face and my left protecting my lower body. My own signature stance. My opponent did something similar. Only he left his abdomen unguarded. Stupid.

This is about the only part of the day I actually enjoy. The self defense class. I get to relieve myself of the anger I have while having fun doing it. And we get to have it outside which is my favorite place because….well it’s outside! Other than drill practice, we aren't permitted to set a foot out of the building. And the voluminous field has many kids so when its not our turn to fight, we can secretly socialize.

“Fight!” Sergeant Carl jamed in the button on his watch and looked up. “5 minutes”

More than enough time. We left our starting points on the mat and danced around in a circle for a moment, each waiting for the other to throw the first punch.Tension and adrenaline flooded my veins as it usually does when i'm in a fight. Stubbornly, I suppressed these feelings and stayed on my defense stage and forced the fighter to come closer. He was hardly taller than I was. But then again, I’m pretty tall for a girl.

“Kick his butt”, Isaac, my strong supporter called from the edge of the mat where the rest of my group and class were. Jared was already starting to take bets on me and Tyler, he just stood there silently as usual. But he did a half smile and firmly clenched one of his hands into a fist, letting me know he had confidence in me.

Just at that time the fighter lunged forward with a heavy right arm. It would have caught me, if I didn’t block it with my left forearm. I returned the gift with a right jab to the nose. Blood started oozing on his green t-shirt and dripped onto his camo pants and I knew it was broke. Maybe I should go easy on him. Ha. Yeah right!

Anger and determination filled his eyes as he moved toward me with his fist flying like they were machine guns. I managed to block all of them with precision except one. But I was taught to ignore pain so I hardly felt it.

“Come on, Erika. Show ‘em some girl power!” Claire was watching closely with her fist balled up tight. She absolutely loathed the guy I was fighting. So I decided to do her a favor. I cocked my fist back and shot it forward faster than his eyes could track. It clipped him right in the chin and he stumbled backward, in a daze. I was on top of him in an instant threatening him with another powerful blow. But that would have ended the fight. And what’s the fun in that? So I got off of him because I’m just merciful like that.

I stood back in anxiety as he slowly climbed back to his feet. Instead of forfeiting, the poor guy tried unsuccessfully to get back into his fighting stance. Kids from other age groups were having class outside too, but they all assembled around the tiny mat to see the fight.

“2 minutes”, Sergeant Carl reminded. Ok. This had to end now.

“Had enough”, I asked. A slight smile crossed my face. “There’s no shame in backing down from a girl.”

I guess he had more pride than that because he came forward just close enough so he could try an elbow. I blocked it and delivered a knee, you know where. Yes! The stomach. Gasping, he took a couple steps back. With a final roar of desperation, he leaped up and snapped a kick. I easily caught it and swiped my foot under his other leg, making him lose balance and fall. Again, I was on his back. My long brown hair somehow came out of the French braid and was dangling in front of me, blocking my vision. But I took his arm anyway and violently twisted it behind him. He screamed in pain but it was muffled by the mat.

“Just tap out, man”, One of the people from his group warned. But he refused. So I just yanked it upward higher and higher and higher and then. POP!

Disappointingly, that wasn’t the sound of his shoulder. But the dreaded sound of a gun sending a bullet whistling over my head.
© Copyright 2010 Shelby Lynn (beaverwriter at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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