SICK HEART by Huss, JA (non fiction books to read .TXT) 📕

the end of phase two.” Rainer pushes Cort backwards until he stumbles off the mat and is standing behind his row of kids.

And then it’s just me and Maart. With nothing but a few feet between us.

He hunkers down into his fighting stance again and turns into someone else right before my eyes. Some ruthless killer version of himself. He turns into Cort the way he was that night on the helipad with Pavo.

He turns into an animal.

And I turn into his prey.

I put my fists up, mimicking his fighter stance, but without the two and half decades of practiced good form.

We circle each other for a few seconds, then, before I even understand what’s happening, he’s smacked me in the face. I grit my teeth, tasting blood. My tongue has mostly healed from the last time he did that, but it’s like he knew he could split it back open with one well-placed slap.

And this pisses me off. Not that he cut my tongue back open. The fact that he slapped me.

Like I’m just a stupid girl. Not worthy of a real punch.

And I don’t know what happens to me. But something does happen to me. Because I see red and my vision narrows down into a tunnel focusing only on my opponent. My whole body goes hot. My feet dance the way they’ve been conditioned to, bouncing on the mat like I really am a fighter.

And then, before I can think about it—before Maart can read my mind and counter what I’m about to do—I fake a punch and he ducks left. But I’ve already lowered my head. I ram his chest like a bull. Pushing him backwards, making him stumble. And then, like a fucking miracle from God, he’s on the mat. On his back. Right in front of me. I drop to my knees as he laughs. And I punch him in the mouth.

I’m just about to smile and enjoy this one moment—this one time that I took Maart by surprise—when his fist crashes into my jaw and my whole world stutters.

And then it all goes black.

I struggle to swim up from the darkness.

People are saying my name over and over. “Anya! Anya!” Lots of people.

I recognize Rainer, Cort, and yes, even Maart. Then Irina. Even Evard. Hell, maybe all of them.

“Anya!” That’s Cort. “Open your eyes.” He pulls one lid open with a finger. “Look at me. Can you look at me?”

I nod, which makes my head swim. Then I look over at Maart and smile.

“What the fuck are you smiling about? I knocked you out, you dumbass.”

Then I laugh and throw him my middle finger. And this, I think, is a moment worthy of words. “Fuck you. You fucking prick. You want to slap me? Like a goddamned girl? You think I’m just a goddamned girl? Someone to be tucked away in a harem house? Fuck you! You have no idea who I am. Or what I’ve lived through. Or what I’m capable of.”

Every kid is laughing. So loud, Maart can’t hear the rest of my curses. But I keep going. It’s like… all those fantasy moments about what I would say when I finally started talking are playing out in real time.

“You’re just a fucking bully,” I continue as Cort pulls me to my feet. “And you’re jealous. That’s why you’re being such a dick. You’re—”

“That’s enough!” Now Cort is yelling at me. I turn to look at him. “What the fuck, Anya? He just knocked you out with one punch. You want him to do it again?”

I throw him the finger too. Right up in his face. “Fuck you too. I don’t need a big brother, OK? I can take care of myself.” Then I look at Maart. “If you want to fight me, you better fight me. Because if you slap my face like a fucking pussy one more time”—I spit blood on the mat—“I will cut your dick off in your sleep.”

All the kids erupt in giggles.

But the three tough men go utterly silent. Just look at me like I’m some wild demon.

Then Irina has my arm and she’s tugging me off the mat, leading me into the clinic to take care of my damage. The building’s door has been propped open so we can hear Cort and Maart arguing outside as she cleans up my face in silence. Rainer is trying to play referee.

Most of the kids file past the clinic and end up in the game room. I figure that must be what Rainer was talking about when he said everyone was ready to celebrate the end of phase two. And then I get lost in the idea of that and what the next month will bring.

Who will I fight next time?

I look at Irina. She has a cut above her eye from her fight with Paulo just a little while ago. But their fight was mostly grappling on the mat. She smiles at me, giggles a little, then signs, I fucking love you.

Why? I sign back, not even sure why I’m signing instead of talking.

“Because,” she whispers, looking over her shoulder nervously, “I have been wanting to say that to him for ten years.” Her accent is thick Russian. And her voice is so much sweeter than I ever thought possible. “He slaps me all the time. It’s insulting.”

“Right? Fucking dick.”

“Just punch me,” Irina says. “I am no one’s little sister. I don’t need no fucking baby slaps.”

“Yeah,” I say, sighing as I push my wild hair out of my face. “Me either.”

Irina points to herself. “I am big sister.” Then she nods her head, pronouncing me fixed as she puts up a hand, palm out. I look at it dumbly for a moment. Then she takes my hand, slaps her palm with it, and then does some little wiggly things with her fingers. “Secret handshake,” she whispers. “Phase three is good. You’ll see.”

Then she winks.

And walks out.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX - CORT

 

The night of