District One Tournament Day One: Graves vs Jinx

i'm that bad type
make your mama sad type

I like my morning coffee with three shots of chaos.

Just kidding! That's a metaphor. But really — who doesn't love a good fuck up? That's me. That's also what I plan to do with this tournament. Relax, I'm not here on a hit. All my throwing knives are in public view.

Well, more than half of them. A girl has her secrets.

That doesn't change the fact that I stick out like a sore thumb. Pretty little prodigies in pretty little uniforms, and then there's me with my ripped up jean shorts and my roots in desperate need of a touch up.

Can't say I care. We're all bottle blondes here, I'm just honest about it. "Hey, man. Call me Jinx." The guy at the sign up stall gave me a weird look when I told him that. He asked for my surname, I shrugged, then I skipped past him.

I'm not sure that I even finished the whole process.

Oh, well. I'm used to being a ghost.

"You ready? Need to tie your shoes? Made you look!"

make your girlfriend mad tight
might seduce your dad type
i'm the bad guy, duh

i'm that bad type
make your mama sad type

The boy's bark has teeth. I love it.

That makes sense, right? That's a cool thing to say? It's whatever, I still have to arch my back to dodge the blade he sends in my direction. I use the momentum to finish a cartwheel. I catch my footing and shoot him a sly smirk.

"Uh, definitely." His teasing only brings on a wider smirk, pulling out another knife from the strap on my thigh and tossing it into the air, catching it, tossing it, catching it- we get the point. I'm a show off.

"But I think you're being sarcastic. So I won't show you most of those tricks." Murder isn't a good look when you're off the clock. At least in my case. A dagger through the throat always sounds better with the sound of money being counting.

It's the little things.

I flip forward in the air, flexing my gymnastics training. "You just gonna stand there? Or are you gonna dance with me?" I throw my weapon without any warning. I'm a pistol without the silencer. I want the world to hear everything.

Jinx. A warning.

make your girlfriend mad tight
might seduce your dad type
i'm the bad guy, duh

i'm that bad type
make your mama sad type

Even I can't disappear. Not really.

Bend my knees, twist my back, rotate on my axis — and his blade still glides across my cheek, a spray of rubies in the air. But they taste like pennies, cheap and rusted and getting into my mouth. It's just a little fire, a faint sting, not enough to stop me smiling.

I don't bother to spit out the taste.

He's poking at the flames now, all playful taunts and warfare. I feel ancient, and young, and so damn excited. "Is that what we're aiming for? All the places on each other that turn us on?" She runs a finger across her fresh scar. Puckers her lips.

"That's the fun of the dance. We make the rules as we go."

Another flash of steel, a wicked grin.

This is how I play the game.

make your girlfriend mad tight
might seduce your dad type
i'm the bad guy, duh

i'm that bad type
make your mama sad type

I'm so surprised by him ripping my knife out of his arm that I'm unable to dodge his throw. I shift quickly to the side, just enough to shield my weak points, glancing down at the red line that cuts through one of my mismatched socks. I smirk.

"Good thing that stains don't bother me. This'll be a bitch to wash out." But I just laugh, taking out another blade and using the hilt of it to brush my hair out of my face. I can see the fire spreading through him now, the growl rising in his voice.

"Oh, you don't get it? We're both in control here." It's fun, letting him hold the rope I'm going to wrap around his throat. Around his wrists, and legs, and willpower. Until I've worn him down to nothing but bone and ash, and I'm still giggling.

"Any stupid rule you make, I can just erase. You can't stop me from talking." I squint my eyes and mouth more words, sticking out my tongue as my fingers move my knife into position. It doesn't bother me that he doesn't like me.

I'm annoying. I'm fine with that.

"If you're done playing, just tap out. I won't make fun of you."

make your girlfriend mad tight
might seduce your dad type
i'm the bad guy, duh

i'm that bad type
make your mama sad type

The kill.

It comes like a tidal wave, spreads like a fire, settles in my bones like the last snow of a blizzard. It rips through my chest, sends a hot wave of pain down the length of my body. I throw my head back and squeeze my eyes, biting down on the pulling need to cry out.

It ripped at me, twisting me into impossible shapes, until all that was left for me was to stand. I roll my shoulders, digging my heels into the dirt. This is what I was trained for, the torture I was designed to endure. Every cut, every fracture.

My whole childhood. That was the game.

"What do you know about killing blows?" I smile sweetly at him, a quiet kind of sugar. The kind that builds on your tongue, weighs down all of your systems. Makes you shake. I want him to feel all of these things.

"Don't bite off more of me than you can chew."

make your girlfriend mad tight
might seduce your dad type
i'm the bad guy, duh