The sound of the doorbell could be heard from where I stood on the front porch of Kingston's house; a long chime ringing through the house.

Tugging the worn bag in a more comfortable position on my shoulder, I kept my face neutral as I waited, staring at the white door in front of me. With Celine beside me with a schoolbag on her back, we looked like we were coming for an after-school visit. Little would people know that in these backpacks was everything we owned.

I was about to ring the doorbell a second time when the white, pristine door opened. A middle-aged woman stood on the other side, holding the door open enough for me to only see her and not the living room behind. I presumed this was Julian's mother. I had never introduced myself to her.

"Hello, can I help you?" I recognized her voice from my last visit. She had brown hair so light it could have been mistaken as blonde. Her eyes drifted to my little sister, the surprise and confusion evident in her eyes.

"Is Julian home?" I asked, relieved that I had remembered his name. Her attention was back on me. I could feel her analyzing me; the curious look lingering in her warm brown eyes.

"I'll check. Hang on." Leaving the door open she moved further into the house and called on Julian. Throwing Celine a small reassuring smile, I heard someone jog down the flight of stairs inside. Julian rounded the corner from the bottom of the stairs and halted for a second when he spotted me on his front porch. As he closed the short distance to the door, his eyes went from me to the bag hanging from my shoulder before landing on Celine with her backpack.

I hated knowing that this decision was my last resort.

Before I could say anything, he spoke.

"I'm guessing you just couldn't let my amazing offer pass?" The smirk plastered on his face was ridiculous.

You guessed that all by yourself? Wow.

I reminded myself that we would be staying here for free as I restrained myself from snapping back a reply. In a matter of a week or two, I'll be out of his presence.

"I figured sleeping in a house beat sleeping in a storage room," I shrugged.

He seemed amused as he opened the door for us.

"I'll deliver the wonderful news to my mother," he said mockingly. I grabbed his arm as he started to walk away. He whirled around and looked at my hand on his elbow before looking back up at me. I quickly dropped my hand.

"She can't know about us living alone. I don't care if she's your mom, she will contact someone to 'take care of us'. Nobody can know, you hear?" I kept my voice low and hard, but I knew he understood my desperation. Not even the cold look on my face could hide that.

"Don't worry, Cass. I figured as much," he simply answered.

The woman from before appeared from a room to the left, further in the house.

"Mom, Cassie's parents are on vacation and their house is being redecorated so I offered our guestroom for her sister and her to stay in the mean time."

He gestured toward the front door where we stood; me attempting to offer a friendly and open expression to the mother, and most probably failing, while my sister looked around the house in awe. I couldn't help but be slightly impressed by how smoothly he'd made up the fake explanation.

"Oh, and you offered, I gather?" she looked at him with open amusement and raised eyebrows, as if she knew he was lying about the reason to why he would have me live here. "Nobody else could?"

"She's still new here, mom, she hasn't had too much time to get to know people. The reason we're such good friends is because she was set up as my tutor, remember?" He rolled his eyes with a smirk at her amusing suspicion.

I almost cringed when he referred to us as friends.

She looked back at me with a sort of recognition in her eyes. "Ah, so this was your tutor? So nice to finally meet you. Cassie, was it?" I nodded, managing to give her a small smile in return. "And this is your sister...?" Her eyes found Celine, still gawking at the living room around here, before she brought her questioning stare back at me.

I looked back at the woman for five awkward seconds before I realized I was supposed to answer. "Celine. Yes, she's my younger sister."

Gosh, I was talking as if I were programmed, zero emotion what so ever. I looked down at my sister, standing at half my height. No shit she's your younger sister. I felt a need to roll my eyes at myself.

When she heard her name, Celine turned to us and greeted Julian's mom, her smile as welcoming as ever.

"I'm Elisabeth, by the way. There should be no problem having you girls over for a week or two, of course. Any friend of Julian is welcome in this house," she smiled. It worried me how much I disliked being called his friend. "I'll go find some extra sheets for your beds. Julian, show them around the house, would you?"

He threw her a mock salute before he gestured for us to follow him toward the room his mother had come from.

We entered the guest room as the last room on Julian's tour of the three-story house. The room was positioned on the main floor down the hallway from the kitchen.

"I assume this is a reasonable upgrade from the storage room you two slept in?"

Upgrade indeed.

The room was about the size of the living room and kitchen, combined, in our former apartment. Two queen-sized beds stood positioned on either side of a tall window, giving view to what I would presume was their back garden. On each side of the room stood two medium-sized closets.

I nodded, only watching as Celine threw herself onto the bed on the right side of the window, her backpack still on.

Julian's mom, Elisabeth, had already brought in the new sheets and pillows. The white and spotless surface of the bed seemed fascinatingly inviting.

In my peripheral vision, I noticed Julian taking his phone out from his back pocket. A cocky-like half smile appeared on his face as he stared down at the phone, an expression I had come to hate. He quickly tapped something directly on the screen of the phone, probably messaging someone back. I returned my gaze to my sister, happily touching everything in the room, as if to see if they actually were real. I smiled at that, happy to see her so joyful again, and went to dump my bag on the floor by the other bed.

"I've got to go," Julian lifted his head up from his phone, "but do as you please in this house, just treat it as you would your own. There's a spare key to the house on the counter in the hallway, just in case you need to go somewhere. I think there's some leftover lasagna in the fridge, so you could just heat that up if you're hungry. Mom is home, so all you have to do is ask if you have any problems."

"Thank you, this is... much more than I had expected. The house is..."

"Amazing!" Celine finished for me, her excitement clearly evident in her voice.

He chuckled. "No problem. This house could use some more company anyways."

With that, he exited the room, and I breathed out a sigh of relief when we were alone.

It seemed like a dream. With my luck, this was never supposed to happen. I had had a moment of doubt when we had stood outside; looking at our very last chance for a reasonable place to sleep. I didn't dwell on why Julian would do this for us. For all he knew, we could have robbed his house and made a run for it by the time he came home.

Even though his mother was home, it was a reckless thing to do. I had a feeling he trusted too easily, a dangerously stupid trait to have in my opinion. I shook my head, deciding to only relish in the thought of being able to give this to Celine. Heck, to myself as well.

I allowed myself a smile as I opened my bag and pulled out my workout clothes. We were only staying here for one reason: to give me time to work up enough money for the apartment Anthony had found for me.

On our way to Julian's house earlier that day, I had made sure to stop by the apartment and asked the owner for a two-week hold on the apartment. Unfortunately, the tacky and slightly drunk owner had stated that he would rent it to the first person who was able to give him the price he asked for. My only hope was to gather enough money as fast as possible and be that first person.

That meant no slacking in the bar fights.

"Go take a shower, Celine. I'm afraid you'll need to accompany me to the bar tonight."

Of course, I knew that Anthony would be working tonight. Hopefully, I would be able to let Celine hang out in the backroom of the bar and plead him to check up on her from time to time.

In less than fifteen minutes, we were ready to leave, and I told Elisabeth that we were going out. I noticed her disapproving glance between Celine and I, obviously not approving the fact that I was taking my sister out at eight o'clock in the evening on a Saturday.

I turned to my sister to ask her if she would want to join me or stay here, but looking at her tired face, I knew there was no way she would join me. She needed to rest, in a real bed, with clean sheets for once. Not read alone in the back room of a crowded bar filled with alcohol while her sister fought some unlucky fool in the next room.

"Is it OK if she stays here while I'm out?" Elisabeth nodded vigorously, apparently relieved that I wouldn't drag my sister out so late on a weekend.

I reminded Celine to brush her teeth before going to bed as I put on my shoes and worn-out leather jacket. Grabbing the house's spare keys Elisabeth said I should bring, I headed out into the surprisingly cold night: the first signs of winter steadily approaching.

****

There had been commotion at the bar tonight.

I had been standing right outside the swarm of men around the fighting ring, positioned where the light was dimmer. I was waiting for my third round in the ring, -waiting for my name to be announced.

Balconies surrounded the bar, acting as a second floor being able to look down on the bar, crowd and of course, the fighting ring. The balconies were always occupied, as if they were reserved for special people. More than a few times, I had seen drunken men try to take their beers up and watch the fighting from above. Every time they had gotten kicked down the stairs by the 'special' people.

I had never bothered to go up, knowing that I wouldn't be any exception. I was fight experienced, but I wasn't stupid.

The commotion hadn't been big, I doubted anyone else in the crowd had even noticed it. The only reason I noted it was because I stood directly under the balcony of where it happened.

"-think you're talking to, boy?" a deep voice hissed, an evident warning in his tone.

I heard quick and jerky footsteps, most probably a person stumbling.

"You don't understand, I've wanted to get the position I deserve for months now! And now that I've finally found her, I have a chance to prove myself to the gang. I need revenge," a younger voice explained, lowering his voice by the end of the sentence so that I barely made out what he said.

The first voice had lowered as well, almost to a grumbling. "Months? I've wanted revenge for years. Jail time beats a few more months of not being a gang leader, Coley. You need to learn when to pick your fights, boy, and now is not one of them."

Feet shuffled overhead. The voice continued. "I can have you killed with the snap of my fingers, and no one would notice."

There was a pause. "But since you've given me useful information, I'll let you go. If you prove to be more useful, I'll give you a chance to redeem your feeble dignity and fight for a leadership in your little gang. Report to me when you find out where she is. I know she's been..." the deep voice lowered, making it impossible to hear him over the roar of the crowd.

I heard quick footsteps going toward the stairs to my right, not too far away. Moving away from the stairs I knew the man would descend from; I blended in with the crowd, watching the staircase from the corner of my eye.

The man looked to be in his mid twenties, with dark hair shielding parts of his face. In the dim light, I couldn't decide if the hair color was brown or black. He moved swiftly, jogging down the stairs and rounding the corner to the front door of the bar. Before exiting, he abruptly stopped and turned toward the ring. He seemed to be searching for someone, an angry glare evident on his face even from this distance.

With a look of frustration, he disappeared out the door.

My name got called out over the speakers and in the span of twenty minutes and a bloody nose, I had forgotten about the overheard conversation.

My only thought was to bring down the man in front of me, an opponent who had made my blood drip to the cold floor of the ring.

****

I returned to the house a little after midnight. There had been more fights than usual tonight, and I had ended up doing more waiting than fighting.

I parked the motorbike in the driveway to Julian's house, wincing as I hopped off. Gripping my side, I closed my eyes and exhaled, willing the pain to dim before I dug the keys out of my bag.

Damn that brutal kick from my fourth fight. My right side would definitely bruise over the next couple of days, meaning I would need to improve my defense on that side tomorrow night.

Even though some of the fights had been more intense and severe than ever, leaving more bruises and aches than I expected, I smiled through the pain. Because of the number of fights I participated in, and the surprisingly even skills between my opponents and I, my income for the night had been outstanding.

It had been surprisingly pleasant to go against someone challenging. However, I knew I had to end my night when the last guy threw me to the ground. He would have won had I not kicked his feet from under him. I had almost laughed as his expression changed from victorious to shock in the blink of an eye.

Back then, adrenaline had pumped through me, numbing the pain from the hits my body had taken. It had been the only reason why I'd managed to flip us over and unleash a total of four punches and a knee to his gut before he surrendered.

Now, with every ounce of adrenaline gone, I almost didn't want to move.

I felt something wet trickle from my nose as I unlocked the front door. Sighing in annoyance, I cupped my nose with my left hand as I opened the door and stepped in.

Apparently my nose wasn't done bleeding from the last fight.

As soon as I locked the door behind me I pinched the soft part of my nose shut and headed for the kitchen. I hoped Elisabeth wasn't still up.

I spit the blood that had gathered in my mouth into the sink, turning on the faucet and letting it run down the drain before I went to find an ice pack in their freezer.

I brought out a pack of frozen peas, cringing at the loud sound the freezer top made when it closed. The house remained silent when I returned to the kitchen. Good.

Positioning myself on one of the bar stools; I rested my elbows on the island countertop in front of me, pack of frozen peas in my hand, numbing my nose and fingers. The silence felt calming after my hours at the bar. My eyes automatically closed, my whole body yearning for a bed to rest in.

I heard him long before he appeared in the kitchen doorway.

It had sounded like Julian had been trying to be silent when he came in the front door, closing the door as slow as possible. Three seconds later, however, he managed to trip over something, causing him to let out a string of hissed curses.

I rolled my eyes.

Shortly after, he rounded the corner to the kitchen. From the corner of my eye I could make out his figure as he started toward me, his head thrown back as he drank something.

"Oh, Cass, I didn't know you- Holy shit. Okay, you're bleeding." He abruptly halted his approach. I stared ahead, at the window on the other side of the kitchen. It was too dark outside to see anything.

The fingers on my left hand had turned numb from the cold so I switched the ice pack to my right hand, careful not to push too hard on the nose. I pinched my nose with my left hand.

"I sure am," I mumbled back.

He walked to the other side of the island countertop I was leaning on. Putting the thing he had carried into the kitchen on the counter, he then grabbed something from the cabinet under the sink. I looked down and saw it was a can of beer, suddenly grateful for the fact that I couldn't breathe through my nose and smell the unpleasant scent of it.

He turned around and offered me a small towel, nodding toward the pack of peas in my right hand.

"Thanks." I wrapped the bottom of the pack with the towel and returned it to my cheek and nose. The feeling in my fingers slowly came back after holding onto the dot colored towel.

"How long were you at the bar?" He wondered, throwing the beer can in a plastic bag beside the trash. It was strange hearing someone other than Anthony and Celine ask me about my fighting so normally, especially the boy in front of me.

"I don't know, a couple of hours," I mumbled, my right hand tentatively pulling the pack away from my nose to check if the bleeding had stopped. His eyebrows pulled up in surprise.

"It looks good now," he nodded, watching as I felt under my nose for any more drippings of blood.

I nodded and walked over to the sink on the other side of the countertop. Gathering some paper towels, I wiped away the blood on my face. I felt him watch as I attempted to clean my bloodstained shirt.

"I'll put that in the washer, if you'd like. Water only spreads it around." He gestured to my still stained t-shirt, obviously noticing my growing irritation.

I looked back at him, silently wondering why he was still hanging around and not returning to his room upstairs, but too tired to ask. He gave me a reassuring half-smile, or what I'd like to call 'the pity smile'. Definitely not a smile I'd want sent my way.

Nonetheless, I shrugged and took the shirt off. Might as well, since I'd managed to already forget where the washing room was.

His smile fell away as I held the shirt out for him, leaving a look of bewilderment in its place. One of my eyebrows rose in question as his eyes travelled from my face to my sports bra, travelling over the new blue and purple bruises on my stomach, completely ignoring the shirt I held out.

I threw the bloodied shirt at his face. His reflexes kicked in and he caught the shirt before it could hit his surprised face.

"Thanks, Kingston. I appreciate it." I made my way past him, not missing the amused expression that played on his face. The expression quickly turned sour, however, almost angry.

If he didn't want to deal with my shirt, he should have said so.

Yet, he didn't stop me from exiting the kitchen. And soon enough, I heard his footsteps move in the opposite direction.