Fighting For Her Ch. 04

I looked up.

"Same here," I replied as I inched my way up and kissed her.

"We really should go up now."

"I don't want to."

Smiling, I began to stand up regardless of Amy's refusal.

"Nooooooooo..." she groaned, trying to pull me down again.

"No, no, no, Amy," I said, laughing, pulling my hand away. "Tell you what. We go upstairs, and I'll take you somewhere special tomorrow."

She lifted her hand and smiled shyly. "Special?"

"Yes," I replied, holding out my hand. "Special."

Biting her lower lip, she looked at me from head to toe, and took my hand. I pulled her up, and she almost fell on me.

"Whoa there!" I said giggling, helping her stand up. "You okay?"

"Yea," she replied. "You didn't...you didn't orgasm?"

I wiped a few strands off her face, and smirked," I didn't need to. I promised to take care of you."

"Hmmm..." she hummed, her head near my neck.

With that, we went upstairs, and slept in each others' arms.

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The first thing I noticed when I woke up was this heavy weight on my chest. And the first sight I saw was Amy's face, asleep and serene.

The perfect angel.

Somehow, the back of her head was resting on my chest. Somewhere along the night, we ended up holding hands. They ended up on top of Amy's naked chest.

I tilted my head, and smiled. I could literally stare at the sight before me for hours.

Carefully trying to slip out underneath her, she stirred.

"No, you don't," she mumbled as she squeezed my hand, her eyes still closed.

"Good morning," I whispered. She opened her eyes and smiled wide as ever.

"Hey..." she quietly said as she stretched. "Good morning to you, too."

"Come on, we have to get up," I said, squirming my way out of the bed.

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"Where are we going?" Amy breathed, putting her hands in her coat pocket.

"You'll see," I replied as I was locking up the Dojang. Smiling eagerly like a child, I grabbed her hand and pulled her to the neighborhood.

It was such a beautiful morning. Fresh snow from last night hovered the streets and sidewalks.

"Pamela?" Amy asked. "Is this...safe?"

I looked back at her as I kept on pulling her hand. I nodded.

As we walked pass the empty streets and beat up looking buildings, we stopped in front of a building called "Mama B's."

"What's this?" Amy asked with a confused expression. I giggled and pulled her in the building.

You see, when you first walk into "Mama B's," the first thing you'd notice is the strong smell of lilacs and the overpowering atmosphere of comfort and peace. In other words, it felt like home.

The second thing you'd notice is the kids running around, ages ranging from five through eighteen year olds, but theses weren't just ordinary kids. What makes them different is that little sparkle of hope in their eyes when you look at them, that they won't let this neighborhood get to them. Instead of guns, knives, and bandanas, all you'll ever find them carrying around are pens, notebooks, and books.

As Amy was looking around the nicely decorated place, a slightly overweight, middle-aged black woman emerged from the kitchen wearing an apron and carrying a bowl. She smiled brightly, the little wrinkles around her eyes deepened.

"Child!" she exclaimed with her southern accent. "You 'ere early! An' you brough' a frien'!"

"Mama B!" I laughed and automatically went over to her and hugged her. "I want you to meet Amy."

Amy walked over to her and held a hand out," It's nice to meet you, ma'am."

Mama B looked at me amusingly, and started cracking up. "Ooooo child!" Mama B said, trying to stop laughing. "You aint from aroun' 'ere! Call me Mama B, everyone calls me Mama B. I don' do shakes, child. I do hugs!"

With that, she opened her arms and hugged Amy tightly. Amy looked at me, laughing.

"Hey, Mama," I said. "Is it okay to show Amy around?"

"O' course, child! Everyone's welcome 'ere!"

I grabbed Amy's hand and pulled her upstairs. Squeezing her hand a couple of times, we went to a room full of middle schoolers. All of them were on the floor with their heads down, looking at a text book. There were multiple papers, notebooks, and books laying everywhere on the floor.

Smiling, I looked at all of them and one Hispanic boy looked up, meeting my gaze.

"Hey Pam," he said grinning, and multiple heads looked up at us.

"Hey, Alec," I said, nodding my head at him. "What are you guys reading? Or studying?"

"Calculus."

"Old English Literature."

"Philosophy."

"Physics."

"French."

"Political Science."

I saw Amy blink in surprise.

"Have fun!" I said and pulled Amy away from the door. We passed a lot of rooms full of children, preteens and teens either chattering, reading, writing, or drawing. I stopped by a door that said "Art Room." The door was covered with green, blue, yellow paint. I slowly opened it and saw kids of different races and ages painting on their canvases.

Immediately, one Asian boy with an eye patch over his right eye came running to me, screaming my name.

"Pammy! Pammy! Pammy! Pammy!"

He hugged me tight on my hips, and I roared in laughter.

"Little Carter," I laughed, hugging him back. "What have you been up to?"

"Jus' paintin'" he said with a muffled voice. He broke away and looked at Amy curiously. He went to Amy and tugged her hand.

"You're pretty," he said showing his toothless smile.

Amy blushed," Awww thank you! You're a handsome little boy, aren't you?" She ruffled his hair, and he giggled in reply.

"Yo' gonna be here fo' awhile, Pammy?" Carter asked, tugging on my coat. "My painting's almost done, bu' you aint cant see it 'till it's all done."

Squatting, I poked his stomach and he giggled. "Well," I said, "show it to me wen it's all done then. Come on, finish it."

He nodded, and eagerly went to his painting station. These kids went through so much...

I shook my head, stood up, and grabbed Amy's hand, leading her to the roof.

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"It's beautiful out here," Amy breathed, looking out from the edge of the building. "So..."

"Peaceful?" I finished, walking behind her. Amy looked back at me and nodded, then walked to me. "You're not telling me something, Pamela," she said carefully, looking at me with concern.

I stopped, my eyes not meeting her. I turned my head towards a bench covered with a thin layer of snow. "Come," I said, nodding to the bench.

After sweeping the snow off the bench, I began telling her about "Mama B's."

Mama B's real name was Betty Cathridge, and she was a victim of a serious crime: she was raped by her own father. She was abused and treated unfairly while her mother did nothing but buy drugs in the streets.

Once her mother and father found out she was pregnant, she got kicked out from her house and was forced to live in the streets.

She gave birth alone in an abandoned home, only to find out she had a miscarriage. That abandoned home became "Mama B's," an orphanage and a place for kids and teens to escape from their own harsh worlds and to replace it with education and arts.

How she got the building and supplies weren't easy. She worked hard working odd jobs to pay for school, and worked hard to get the top grades in class.

"The kids in there...they were a mess before they came here," I explained to her, gazing up at the blue sky. "Alec, the one in the study room, was a victim of abuse outside and inside his home. His parents were drug addicts, and the older kids had nothing else to do other than beat the shit out of him."

"Little Carter was...was something else," I continued, breathing out unsteadily. "He almost got killed by a hang member. He was walking home from school and this guy jumped him, and ended up stabbing his eye. A bystander saw the whole thing and tried to break them apart, but the bystander got killed right in front of Carter. Luckily, he got away, but the attacker is still roaming around somewhere.

But apparently, he didn't have parents. Or a family for that matter. He was living on his own until Mama B found him wandering around the neighborhood, crying and bleeding. She took him in like he was her own son. He was six years old then. That was a year and a half ago."

I licked my lips and shuddered, tears beginning to form in my eyes. Amy's hand rested on my thigh. I didn't dare to look at her.

"And how do you know Mama B?" she whispered.

I looked down, breathed in a handful of fresh air, and told her about my family in detail. I told her how I felt, what I saw, and what I wish I didn't see. Everything.

"I didn't find Mama B," I said quietly. "Mama B found me. I remember... I remember walking around the neighborhood drunk that night. I stayed at another orphanage near this neighborhood, but the owner was never home at all. So there I was, half-naked, with a beer bottle in my hand. Then there goes Mama B, walking out of a store. She let me stay the night, and a couple of weeks later, she took me in.

She was the person...that showed me hope was lingering around, waiting to be noticed. It was up to us to take notice of it. She helped me realize that."

I looked at her, tears freely flowing out of my puffy eyes. She looked back, her soft eyes comforting me. Looking away to wipe my tears off my face, she grabbed my chin and wiped them off herself.

"I'm so sorry..." she replied softly, cupping my face. I shook my head and stood up.

"This neighborhood used to be so magical," I said, looking out from the building. "Now look at it! The souls of the used-to-be-happy-going citizens vanished only to be replaced by distrust."

"Not every citizen," Amy corrected, walking to me, reaching for my hand.

"This city's government is not doing enough," I mumbled as I pulled her to me. "It's never enough."

"I know," Amy replied. She leaned over and kissed me on the lips.

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~ Watch the beauty of all our lies passing right before my eyes

I hear the hate in all your words, all the wars to make us hurt

We get so sick of so sick, we never wanted all this

Medication for the kids with no reason to live~

(-Young by Hollywood Undead)

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For the next three days, we weren't two, but one. I showed her the places that were still alive, but at night, we made heartbreaking, aching love. We lost count on how many times we made each other orgasm.

"I think I made you cum perhaps fifteen times for the last few nights," she whispered between kisses. "And you...I think fourteen."

"You're wrong," I purred, sliding a finger into her. She let out a rugged gasp against my lips. "Mine is going to be fifteen soon."

She began grinding on my finger. "That's a tie," she huskily said. "I say we need a tie breaker."

But I never realized that what we had would come to a crashing end.

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When I woke up the next morning, I expected Amy's head on my chest, but she wasn't in bed. That's strange, I thought to myself, yawning. Lazily, I got myself out of bed and went to the kitchen. As I looked around the fridge for some milk, I couldn't help but felt that something was out of place.

I walked downstairs carrying my bowl of cereal, and looked around. Nope, I thought. Nothing's missing or anything.

"Amy?" I called out.

Nothing.

Then, I looked at the door and saw a piece of white paper taped on it. Curiously, I walked towards it as I silently munched on my breakfast. I read it:

Pamela-

Something came up. I'm sorry.

-Amy

I read the note multiple times before I let it glide through the air, softly landing on the floor.

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To describe myself as a bit hazy the rest of the day was an understatement. I couldn't feel anything, or if I should feel anything at all. Perhaps I was immune to be heartbroken? For any emotions?

Why the fuck would she leave so suddenly, I thought to myself angrily. Why didn't she tell me in person?

Mumbling to myself, I went to the convenience store to get some groceries, only to find myself extremely lonely. I felt...empty without Amy by my side.

"Cut the shit," I said to myself. "Amy was...she was just a fling. I guess..."

The thought depressed me even more.

On the way, I mumbled to myself, arguing between pro-Amy against the anti-Amy side.

But I know deep inside, through the self-denial that plastered my body, is a heartbroken girl.

The sun was almost going to set, which meant I had to take a shortcut going home. I gripped my grocery bags. My coat and hat weren't enough to keep me warm, so I shivered my way home.

A soft snowflake made its way to my cheek. I looked up and saw a couple more snowflakes gliding down from the sky.

Today's the 23rd of December, I thought glumly to myself. My family's death anniversary. Sadly, I pushed the thought away, even though I knew it'll catch up to me later.

Lethargically, I went to a nearby alley, which I always take whenever I'm in a big hurry before the sunsets.

Then, I noticed at least five guys and two girls leaning against the brick building. I was about to turn around when a familiar voice said," Hey, Pam."

I knew that voice anywhere.

"Jeremy?" I asked, taking a few steps forward, my knuckles white from squeezing the grocery bags. "Jeremy Hepson?"

A bald man with a blue bandana on his head took a couple of strides towards me, a smile on his lips. Regardless the black puffy coat with a white shirt underneath and ripped baggy pants, this man was a good man.

"Pamela Anne Sanders," Jeremy said, hugging me. "How've you been, lil' girl?"

"I'm not little anymore, Jer," I replied hugging him back like a little kid.

Jeremy Harris is his name and he used to be my father's best friend at work. He had a wife for five years and a son, but somewhere along the way, the Red gang was involved.

One of the members raped his wife, who became so distraught about the whole situation that she killed her own son and then took her own life. That was three years ago. The last thing I remembered seeing him was an argument between my dad and him, but Jeremy was too stubborn to listen.

"There's a better solution that this, Jeremy!" my father shouted as Jeremy walked away from him.

He disappeared like a ghost, and no one knew where he was staying. No one knew where he was or if he was still alive. And now, he's in front of me, wearing a blue bandana, meaning...

"The Cobras," I hissed, looking around and taking a couple of steps back. "Tell me it isn't true, Jeremy. Tell me you didn't-"

"Become a Cobra," he finished, his hands in his pockets. He looked at his friends, and shook his head. Some of them looked at me curiously. They walked away from us in order to give us some privacy.

"Pa-"

"No, you listen! This is bullshit! Why are you one of them!?"

"Because of my family," he said firmly. "Because the cops didn't give a damn about the neighborhood or the crimes committed in it! Do you know why, Pam? Why?"

I didn't answer. My glare on him heightened.

"Because we ain't worth it," he breathed angrily. "Because all they see in this neighborhood are criminals and they ain't worth it. Because they would rather go to richer neighborhoods since it holds this city together, but this neighborhood? And other neighborhoods like this?"

He threw his hands up in the air, and snarled.

"It's just shit on the ground. It's broken multiple times, so what's the use of fixing it? Why look at shit when there's a bundle of money beside it?"

He put a hand on my shoulder, but I flinched it away.

"Pam," he sighed, "we are alone here. There's no police You know that..." I looked away.

"Someone has to fight back-"

"Like the Cobras?" I spat angrily, glaring at him again.

He didn't answer. He put his hands back into his pockets and said," the Cobras have something in common: we all lost something or someone by one particular group. The Red Gang. Sometimes we got to do what we got to do, an eye for an eye. And sometimes, it ain't pretty."

"Jeremy!" a booming voice shouted behind him. Jeremy and I looked at the source of the voice, and saw a man, his face bloodied and bruised, sprinting our way. Jeremy met him halfway, and I curiously walked to them.

"They're outta control, man!" he gasped, leaning against the building. "The Red Gang...drunk ones. They have gasoline and lighters, guns, knives, and who knows what else. Fuck! They're burning homes and buildings, man!"

"Jesus," Jeremy breathed. "Where are they now?"

"Shit if I know, man," the man said, shaking his head while wiping his face with his bandana. "Last time I saw 'em, they were near that gym martial arts place."

Jeremy immediately turned his head to me.

I dropped my groceries and sprinted to the Dojang.

"Pamela!" Jeremy's voice boomed behind me.

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~ So we march to the drums of the dammed as we come

Watch it burn in the sun, we are numb~

(-Young by Hollywood Undead)

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Panting.

I was never of a sprinter, more of a distance runner, but I pushed my legs to their limits.

Tears were running down my cheeks.

The sun has already set, and the temperature dropped.

Please tell me it isn't so, I thought to myself desperately. Please please fucking please tell me the Dojang is alright.

But once I arrived, my heart dropped on the ground, and my knees crashed onto the snow. Multiple people were around, hovering around the Dojang.

The Dojang was burning, the flames engulfing every wall, every spot. Everything. The Dojang, my home, was on fire.

I started weeping. I couldn't believe what I was seeing.

I was about to ask someone if anyone called the fire department, but once I looked around, there were other buildings and homes on fire.

People were panicking around me.

My eyes widened and my body unconsciously sprinted again. My energy was drained, but I didn't care.

Please tell me it's there, I thought to myself. I pumped my arms, passing and bumping into numerous of people.

Please...

Then I stopped in front of a building, and gasped.

"Mama B's" was burning.

"No!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, and ran inside the burning building.

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Heat.

The walls, stairs, furniture, everything was burning. Coughing, I frantically looked around.

"Hello!" I shouted, then ended up coughing. "Hello! Anyone still in here!?"

Then, I tripped on something, and saw a body. The body stirred and I hoped to God it was one of the kids. I was half-right.

Coughing, I stood up and tried pulling the body up, but felt a long slice on the palm of my hand. I screamed, and the body got up. It was the boy Amy and I bumped into in the alley. A Red Gang member.

The boy stood firm and proud, then pushed me. My back made contact to the burning wall. Grunting, I immediately rolled on the ground, getting the fire out.

It was a mess with the fire, to the boy. The smoke was getting heavier by the minute. As I was trying to get out, I saw the boy charging at me with a knife, and I successfully blocked his attack. Sort of.

The tip of the knife made a wound near my hairline, and I shrieked. I palmed heel his nose multiple ties, and grabbed his knife away from him, but he didn't fall down like I hoped. Instead, he charged at me again, and I had only a half-second to react.

I plunged his knife into his stomach.

It seemed like time has stopped, and everything around me was falling in slow motion. There were tears in my eyes when I saw his. Empty. I saw nothing in his eyes.

And I felt no remorse for him.

Coughing, I stepped away, pulling the knife out, and he fell on the floor.

I put the knife in my coat pocket and sprinted out of the building before the whole building was covered with flames.