Chapter One: Re-Occurring Bandits

The drive-in silence had me mulling over what had just happened.

I shook my head, deciding not to waste my energy pondering; I had to make it to Jack's before she bit my head off.

It didn't take me too long to get there, and walking in, her eyes immediately found me and rounded before a smile of relief changes her features. For an older woman, she was excellent, beautiful; she had eyes that could stare into your soul, and she spoke like she knew everything. She practically raised me and taught me everything I knew.

She was wise; cross her though and shed bear you into next week. She didn't take shit from anyone, and she's strong-willed; I can't even remember how many times she had to hit never the head because I ran my mouth too much, but that didn't mean I didn't give her a thrashing or too either.

She found me walking naked and bloodied in the winter after being gang-raped by drunken bums. A bizarre miracle happened, which I still to this day couldn't wrap my head around it; I managed to kill them all. It wasn't my blood I was covered in but theirs, the goons... The people I called family.

I pushed back those harsh memories that tried to surface and made my way over to her, climbing over the bar counter and standing right next to her.

"Hey jack, did you miss me?" I smirked, letting my expression fall blank afterward. She smiled knowingly before gently touching my face. " I'm fine dear, t'is crowded here tonight, just finished breakin' up a bar fight. Hurry up; yer up next." She handed me an extra apron, squeezing my arm as she walked past to go on her break.

I looked at the mess on the floor and sighed, walking out to grab the broken glass off the floor.

*here we go...*

Soon as I bent down, I felt a hand on my ass, not even trying to be sly with it, but they outright grabbed my ass, squeezing it between their rather large hand. I stopped mid-bend and closed my eyes right before I felt my arm hairs rise, the tension in the air suffocating.

* I wish you hadn't touched me...*

I stood slowly, grabbing the wrist connected to the hand that still had a handful of my ass, and pulled it off. When I turned around, I was staring up at a very handsome man with a slightly crooked nose; I could already tell this man was a mad man; you could see it in his eyes as he learned at me drunkenly. He has wild red hair and a beard that was just as striking. I twisted his wrist and watched as he grimaced, trying to pull my hand from his wrist; not once did I budge.

"Oi, Lassie ya gonna let go of my 'and?" He spoke slurred, but his accent was thick, and his voice was gruff and coarse. His eyes which I found myself starting into we're the most beautiful shade of green with intricate flecks of gold. I hadn't even realized that I was starting until he boldly reached for my face.

My hand instinctively reached up and grabbed his other hand, my face calm and blank, but I was confident that my eyes said it all.

With a firm yank, I pulled him off balance toward me, slamming my head into his already crooked nose watching him stumble back in a daze, with his nose bleeding profusely, against the bar counter.

"I don't know if you've noticed but, you have to ask permission before you put your hands on someone." I was fully facing him now, my face still blank and unreadable.

I hadn't even realized that Jack witnessed the entire spectacle, her mouth slightly agape.

I looked around slowly, making eye contact with everyone in the bar I could manage, laughing. "Would anyone else like to get their nose broken?" I tilted my head and grunted, realizing I had just seen the man from earlier. He and a few others at his table watched me curiously while he stared at me openly with a sly smile.

I had turned three-sixty, starting at the man I had just head-butted, but I realized that I had just fired him up.

He rose steadily from against the counter and spit blood from his lips, grinning. " oie, girly...yer sure know how to rile a man up, don't ye?" He smirked, approaching me slowly while taking off his jacket.

He stood in slack like pants with suspenders and a blood-stained wife-beater tank top, his arms gleaming under the low bar light.

"Honey, come back behind the bar," Jack called out as everyone watched with piqued interest; I couldn't force down the paranoia, the fear, or rage I felt. I had to fight this one out, and I didn't see it any other way.

"You're gonna wish you hadn't." I dropped the broken glass cut to the floor, pulling my hair up into a tight bun behind my head.

"Luck is on my side yer daft cunt." He yelled out, spitting blood from his mouth, his grin expanding. " wish I could say the as about ya." And he lunged at me.