David may be a scheming bastard, but he has his facts straight. We are struggling to stay above the water. And our humble structure of a house is evidence of that.

It's a shabby, two-room grim apartment in a brownstone tenement with a fire escape, lining the street. My brother and I share a cramped room, divided by a handful of superhero posters on one half and an old map of the world on the other that I'd found in a garage sale. The map has been my anchor for so many years, the hope that one day, things won't be as hard as they are now. The world's a big place, and I will find my own footing one day.

I tear my gaze from the pastel-colored map on the wall to Marli sitting on the foot of my bed with my mother and brother, Roan, surrounding her. I just explained my encounter in the café.

As usual, Roan seems disinterested. He mumbles a 'that's great' before jumping back on his bed, shoving a pair of earphones in his ears that let out the muffled sound of music. At the pre-teen age of thirteen, the only things that pique his interest are comics and anime.

I glance back at my mother. She would be pretty in another life; a life where the worry and stress of living our life doesn't mark her soft face. She is a petite woman, small in size and voice. It's evident in her soundless steps, the delicate arc of her nose, and her modestly kept hair that never falls out of her perfect, low bun. I inherit nothing from her save for the autumn eyes and cold bronze skin, a token from her Persian parents.

"Where's Dad?"

She gives me a pitiful smile, and I already know the answer. "He's . . . Out again, honey. But I'm sure he'll be thrilled when he hears about this."

I taste something bitter in my mouth. He's always out. Out in bars getting plastered till sun rise, out wishing he was granted with a better life than the one he's cursed with. A better house, a better family, anything that isn't us.

I want to scold the silly part of me that hoped this is it, the moment he'd finally pat me on the back and see my worth. But I'm smarter than that, to know I will never get his approval or anything more than a cup of whiskey raised to the skies. And I am even sillier for still wishing that at the age of seventeen.

And Mom would never put him in his place. How can she? She's a meek woman, one that tucks him into his bed when he comes back, reeking of alcohol at five in the morning. In moments like this, where his absence leaves plenty of room for the ugly fury to grow inside me, it starts to blindly lash at anyone who will take the hit—my poor mother.

Feeling the resentment seep its way through my stomach, I ask Mom to leave before I shamefully make her carry the burden of my blame. After all, she's the soft peach who allows to be molded and shaped.

She dips her head in guilt. I look away and instead stare hard at the doorway until my vision narrows. She says something in encouragement about joining the school, but I don't hear her. It feels like minutes, hours, but I don't move until she leaves the room with Roan trailing behind her.

༺༻

Her thick hair is tied up in a high ponytail, black oil against porcelain skin. When Marli is deep in thought like right now, her wide eyes dart back and forth and she gnaws at her fingernails. I can almost hear the gears working, rotating in that genius head of hers as she turns my words over and over in her head. Making a chart to weigh the pro's and cons, the risks. My lips lift in silent laughter when she finally comes to a conclusion, her eyes widening even more like an animated character. I'm reminded of the cartoons on the headboard of Roan's bed.

"You're going to go to that school."

All traces of laughter are wiped from my face. This is not the answer I was expecting from Marli. The reason I even wanted to talk to her first is her reasonable—much more than mine—way of thinking. I relied on her to tell me how bad of an idea this is, making any kind of deal with a conniving man like David Roman. She knows first hand the lengths this man would go through to seize his desires. Even more, she knows just how bad I resented helping men like him to get what they want.

"Look. This man wants this so that people can realize how 'good of a person' he is. Imagine the shock when they start reading headlines that confirm their original suspicions?" She gestures wildly with her bony fingers.

She speaks like I'm already caught up in her plan, and I huff in reply. While I may really need this chance at better schooling, Marli's grades can get her into any university she fancies.

"Marli, I'm not catching up. Could you maybe dumb it down for mutants like me?" I ask dryly.

She rolls her eyes, chucking a pillow at me.

"Well, you know how my dad died under his watch? And then another one of his workers 'mysteriously' died last month?" Her enthusiasm only dims a little at the mention of her dad. It doesn't pain her to talk about it as much as it did a few months ago.

The death of her father crushed her, and I was there through it all. I had never seen Marli so broken in the 4 years I'd grown to know her. Marli was sugar, bubbles, rain, solving crossword puzzles for hours tirelessly for entertainment. Losing her dad took that away from her. She became hollowed out for so long, I wondered if I'd ever see her pick up a crossword puzzle again. 

I nod and she continues.

"That's why you're going to accept his offer. I'm sure he has piles of dirt beneath his foot to make him stand this tall. You'll find the evidence, and you will bury this son of a bitch in the ground," she hisses.

I look at her in shock. Her eyes are viciously narrowed in a way that contradicts her soft doll features, and in that moment, it seems like our roles have been switched.

"Marli. This is a dangerous man, I wouldn't even know how to get near him," I scramble to find a way to shoot down her plan.

"Sage Black scared of an old, rich man? You and I both know that's far from the truth." She laughs weakly, pauses for a heartbeat then softens her voice, "Do it for me."

Her almond eyes are pleading. I bite my lower lip as I let her words sink in. Every day in this wretched world I survive and move forward. Despite the odds, I work my ass off and live with a roof over my head. It won't be hard, I think, a plan already taking form in my head. It won't be hard.

After an hour of lazy lounging and careful scheming, Marli takes her bike and cycles home. The instance she's gone and I'm left to my own self-destructing thoughts, I decide that I can't stay here with my sole company any longer. Changing into tights and an old, loose shirt, I grab my bag and quietly leave the house through the fire escape.

This late at night, I should be more careful in my part of the city. The distant wail of a siren warns me, followed by aggressive dog barks. But the knife in my bag makes me feel secure. I feel it pressed against my back, through the bag hung on my shoulders. If it comes down to it, I can protect myself.

The cool wind of an October night clears away any lingering dark thoughts in my mind, and I feel giddy as the hair stands on my arms. Jogging the familiar path to the subway station, my bag bounces against my back, and my feet slaps against the pavement.

The ride is short with only one stop between my house and the gym I had visited so many times this past year. Said gym is a small abandoned warehouse bounded by steel walls. No one knows about this place unless you are a friend of the owner himslef—Lucien. But once he was gone, he changed the locks and gave me the only new key. Years ago, I walked into this place with a fresh scar and a broken heart, but stepped outside with a sense of triumphance at my new muscles. 

I think of the long consecutive nights we spent here together, training until my muscles were screaming from exhaustion and my knuckles were blistered and bloody as I twist the keys in the rusty lock.

The doors creaks loudly when I step inside. Fluorescent lights flicker above me until they all blink revealing the interior. Half a dozen punching bags evenly hang from the walls like dividing columns between exercise equipment. Further inside, a ring stands in the center of the warehouse where I was beaten many times in training.

I sigh in content, drop my bag on the floor with a thud, and walk to one of the punching bags. The only sound in the gym is the whizzing from the lights above, watching over me.

Remembering Lucien's words in my head, I fix myself in the correct position. I have a narrow build with little muscles shaping my limbs so it's all about the momentum of my hit. The trick, he had said, was to use the full body force of your weight, not just your arms. I plant my feet firmly in the ground with enough space between them and slightly crouch. Angling myself, I move my whole body at the same time as my arm pulling back to punch.

The sound echoes against the walls, and I feel the sting in my knuckles traveling like thick mercury up my arms. I do it again.

And again.

And again. Until the only sounds in the gym are my rapid, violent hits and heavy breathing.

༺༻

The next morning, I'm already sitting at the table by the window, a cup of coffee in hand when the clock strikes one. On cue, David Roman strides into the café with an air of determination, his black suit standing out in a room of casual clothing. Even his stance oozes arrogance.

He does not like to waste time. Taking off his sunglasses, his dangerous eyes roam the room slowly until they land on mine before walking to the table. 

I, too, don't like to waste time. "I will do it. I'll join the school," I say evenly, pushing the cup of coffee to his side of the table. He picks it up and takes a sip, his eyes smug.

"Smart girl," he says, stroking his thick beard. He enjoys getting what he wants, and this is another win for him.

Not this time, Roman. Not this time.

"When will I enroll?"

"Eager now, are we?" He chuckles to himself. I resist the urge to use his coffee and give a him brown suit instead of the black one he originally walked in with. "But don't worry, I am too. You'll start attending classes this Monday."

"This Monday?" I don't hide the shock in my voice. "That's two days from now."

He nods with a blank expression. "Yes, why not? The sooner the better. You've already spent a month in that public school of yours. It's easier if you switch now."

Many feeble excuses as to why we should wait run in my mind but none stick. He's right. I knew what I was getting myself into, and there's no going back now.

I straighten my spine and hide any doubt on my face."That's fine by me."

Before he can carry on, his phone rings and he presses it to his ear, holding a finger up to silence me.

"Yes . . . Yes, I'm with her now . . . Fine, you're right . . . Give me a few minutes and meet me in Cena De Lopez," he mutters before ending the phone call.

I raise an eyebrow in question; there are still many things to discuss.

He turns his attention back to me. "My son thinks he should be a part of this discussion seeing as heattends this school. And I think he'll help you fit right in," he explains. "Let me take you out for lunch. He's waiting."