Run, Fight, Repeat

1 | Astrid

Astrid

Looking out the window, the trees pass fast. My car speeds through the small town, ruling the road. The road is clear, clean, quiet. Too quiet. Wonder why? The music is loud, windows down. Trying to drown out my thoughts. Maybe coming home was a bad idea?

But I had to get away.

Looking to my left, the trees are green, bright, and lively. They sway with the wind. Beyond the trees is a lake, beautiful waters, duck, geese, boats, people having fun. Past the lake are hills, large green hills. Children rolling down them. They seem normal, happy.

"Why did I ever leave?" I would ask myself if I had no answer.

But I do. I left because of my dad. The pressure he forced on me to succeed 24/7 was too much. My mother didn't do anything about it. I don't even remember what her voice sounds like. She said maybe two words a day.

To the world outside of the Steel house, my dad was normal; Perfect. He is the Sheriff, a good one too. He was respected. My father would donate money, and his time to help people. Everything had to be in order.

If I were to stay with my parents, I would have been taught to be a wife, a mother. It's the 21st century and my father still believes that women were seen, not heard. He would tell me to stand up straight, chin down. No eye contact. He'd remind me that my only use is cooking, cleaning, and raising the children when the time came.

The thoughts anger me. My knuckles turn white on the steering wheel.

To him I was perfect, perfect for the 1800s. My mother wouldn't do anything about it because she was "so in love".

If my father saw me now, he would have a heart attack. Last he saw me I was sixteen. No tattoos, no battle scars, no gang. No jail time... I was so pure before I left. But now ten years later, twenty-six, ex-Hustler member. I went to jail twice. A full sleeve tattoo along with a thigh and a ribcage one. I'm so far from "pure".

In the last ten years, I've changed quite a bit. Into a strong independent woman. And I don't know whether to love or hate myself because of it. Due to all the change I barely remember what life was like back then.

Even though my newer life ended like crap, I have no regrets.

I raised my own money. Joined a gang, Hustlers. And traveled the world with them. I gambled, raced cars. Went to parties. I lived however I wanted to. Yes, at times it was rough But I was so happy and free.

It was better than my father pointing out each imperfection and how to fix them. He even sent me off to "Laddies Camp" when I was thirteen! They taught me how to be a wife when I was just a teenager! The thought makes me gag.

I only see red. All the anger to why I left comes back to me. Why am I coming back to the hell hole!? Just to be ridiculed and to be "fixed". Well guess what! I don't need fixing! I am perfect how I am!

Screw this. I don't need them. I go to turn around but roaring motorcycles pass me and one into me. All revving their engines. My head slams against the steering wheel. I instantly have a headache, I feel a line of blood trickle down my forehead, past my left eye.

I turn off my once beautiful Audi A7. There is no way to open my door because the bike crushed it so badly, so I climbed out the broken glass window. I scream in frustration. Now on the paved road, I look up and get even more angry to see the dent in my precious car!

I looked up to see the bike, and the biker that caused the damage. He seems young, seventeen maybe. Give or take, seven other bikers circle back to meet their friend, that is now my enemy. He seems way too apologetic.

"I'm so so so sorry! I'll fix it!" He is almost in tears.

"Hell ya you're gonna fix it!" I respond by wiping the blood from my eyelid.

The rest of his friends park their bikes nearby, blocking the road and gathering behind their boy. They all tour over me, built, and covered in tattoos. All except the boy that hit my car, he seems to just have one on his forearm.

"Ma'am, I-" The boy tries, but that just sends me off into flames. No one calls me "ma'am"!

I lunge forward at him hitting his groin with my knee then right between the eyes. As soon as I do, he crashes to the ground, out cold. I go for more, but a pair of arms snatch my waist lifting me up. I kick my legs and flail my arms to get closer but he is too strong.

"Let go of me!" I demand.

"Shut up." A low strong voice commands. "Is he okay?"

"He is fine." I grunt.

Then the young adult wakes up, then scurries back away from me. "Sorry ma'- miss... " he says, making me angry again.

I give him a cold stare.

"I'm sorry." He repeats, standing to his feet.

"Put. Me. Down." I demand again.

With a huff he puts me down. I step forward with full intentions to punch him again but the man behind me takes my arm, holding me back. I jerk forward to get off his grip but he takes my other arm tightly.

"Alright! I'm done! I'm done!" I huff in defeat.