chapter 1:

Blue punched.

Over, over, over again. Until she felt as if her knuckles were screaming at her in pain. She huffed and puffed, let every breath in portray her fire and every exhale show off her ashes. She had always been a flame and she intended to never be extinguished.

Without pain, she wouldn't gain anything form the world. To become invincible, she had to break down her own walls and build them back up with bruised hands. Years ago, she had decided that the only person that would help her become adrenaline itself was herself.

The girl under her was bleeding.

From her nose and lip, quite obviously. Shadows of bruises were already showing, and Blue almost laughed. Her opponent showed up with a face full of makeup and a sports bra so small, there was no place for sweat or air. Not that Blue even gave her the time to sweat. Fifty seconds in, she was on the ground, groaning and gasping for air. Perhaps if she had focused less on trying to impress the male eyes that surrounded them and more on her strength, she would have stood a chance.

Blue knelt down beside her, and watched the blonde writhe in pain, as a bone popped out of her shoulder area. She almost felt pity for her opponent, who was too young for her. But then she heard her blood rush around her body, her heart pumping in her ears. Blue stood up, chest high, as her victory was announced.

"The winner, once again, is LETHAL BLUE!" the host roared and so did the crowd.

Blue's fist flew to the air, as if absorbing the power she had gained. The crowd was on their feet, chanting her name. The only ones who had lost tonight were those who bet against Blue. They weren't many, probably newcomers. As her name mentioned—she was lethal. She also hadn't lost a single game from over twenty-five.

Winning would never bore her, that was certain.

She grinned on the way to her friends a few moments later, from which only one followed her to the small locker room. They had been to enough of her games to know how cocky she was after a game, and, honestly, before it as well. They still showed up to every single one and shouted louder than anyone else.

"You did well," Sebastian patted her back, and then laughed. "You destroyed her."

"I know," Blue wiped the sweat above her brow with a towel. His smile was contagious. "I'm lethal, Seb. I don't understand why she tried to punch me in the face first. If she hadn't, I might have gone a little softer on her."

A pause.

"Probably not," she added. "She had it coming anyway."

"Hm." His hand reached to her waist softly, too softly, but she grabbed his arm, before he even finished his thought.

"Seb. Not now."

She didn't need anyone's touch on her, never after a victory. People hovered around her and that was never an issue, but she cut off the ties that anyone would try to have with her. She was as untouchable as the horizon, and that would never change. Not for Sebastian, not for her opponents, not for anyone.

"Fine," he exhaled and rubbed his hand over his buzzed hair. She took out her gym bag. Flinging a towel, a bra and a change of clothes over her shoulder, she twitched upon hearing his next words. "Later tonight, then."

Blue took her hair out of the tight bun she kept it in, watched it fall down her shoulders. She turned to Sebastian. Her eyes were firm and demanding all at once. She crossed her arms and glared at him. He was handsome, she didn't doubt that.

"Not now means I'm not interested now. Now means between this very second and whenever the fuck I want. Now, also means leave, because I need to shower."

He rolled his eyes, "whatever you want, B."

"I'll meet the rest of you outside in fifteen," she stepped into the small cubicle and undressed.

"What does fifteen mean?" Sebastian drawled. "Whenever the fuck you want?"

She poked her head out of the door and shouted: "What was that?"

"Nothing. See you," he walked out.

Blue smiled. That was what she thought too. In reality, they both knew that she heard him. But with time and a few painful lessons, Seb had understood that when Blue gave you a chance to repeat your words, you only took it when you wanted to get more shit.

And being around Blue—getting a moment of peace was rare.

-

Blue's senses were never dull.

Alcohol in her system seemed to heighten her feelings and strength more than anything. Her body was used to the never-ending rush of adrenaline; one that only simmered down when she slept. And even then, she wasn't peaceful. Constant dreams and ideas swirled around, making her restless.
When she didn't teach fighting, she trained. When she wasn't training, she was kicking someone's ass and making money out of it. When she wasn't fighting, she was drinking. Sleep. Eat. Repeat.

Ergo, she was a flame that didn't know how not to burn anymore.

Once Blue and her friends were reunited, the party began. They had one tradition, and it was to get wasted after a win. Soon, since Blue hadn't lost a game in months, they did so after each match. Each night would end with regrets and none at all, but they never complained. As messed up as their alliance was, they couldn't give each other up for the world.

"To Lethal Blue, my favorite bad bitch in the game," Jada shouted, taking two consecutive shots of tequila instead of one. Her short hair curls didn't budge from the swift motions.

Blue drank, and then watched Jada make a fool out of herself. Not only was Jada a literal lightweight, being the smallest of Blue's friends, she was a lightweight when it came to alcohol as well. A beer meant that she would get a little tipsy. A Cosmo meant she'd text her exes failed inappropriate pictures and say : "miSS THIS BABY" or "tihs is what ur missjnf out on, assfade". Shots—well, they meant that Jada probably wouldn't be sleeping in her own bed. It wasn't due to the natural laws of attraction and alcohol, but because Jada didn't remember her address when drunk and none of her friends had the patience to drive her home.

A man leaned against the empty space next to Blue and checked her out with lacking subtlety. "Hey, gorgeous."

Blue considered her options. She could see if he was worth talking to, or shut him down. Although he was obviously attractive, he also knew it and wasn't shy about it. Then again- she was the same way.

"Hi," she said in return. She popped an olive in her mouth and chewed on it slowly.

He leaned in closer, she leaned back. "What's a pretty thing like you doing here alone? No boyfriend?"

Blue felt the immediate urge to puke, but it wasn't because of the alcohol. Pretty thing. Not only had he brought her beauty down to a simple word like "pretty" that could qualify roses or sunsets, when she was so much more than that—but he also shoved her down into a "thing".

As if she was a walking body, with air instead of a brain. "Nope. Don't need one."

"Oh, come on. Everyone wants to have someone. Maybe I'll be your someone tonight."
God, Blue's dislike for this man grew like a tumor. Her fingers were vibrating and she gulped down more olives.

What stupid, foolish men like him didn't understand was that Blue truly didn't need a man. She didn't need anyone in her life; she simply willed them to stay. She didn't need to cuddle with anyone at 3 a.m. and tell them about her secrets. She didn't need a man to protect her from any harm or to send her "good morning, beautiful" texts every day. She didn't need a ring on her finger or to over think about telling someone that she loved them to the moon and back.

She needed to be strong, with mental and physical agility. She needed to destroy her punching bags and make her opponents regret the day they ever even had the idea to fight her. She needed wraps around her hands and knuckles that were almost always bloody, because she knew more about defeating others than healing herself.

Blue gave the man a smile. "Not a chance in hell."

She then launched herself on the dance floor and pried Jada, sweet, innocent Jada, and her not-so innocent ass off a man just like the one she had just met, who saw Jada as nothing but a pretty little thing.

"No fun," cried Jada, resisting Blue's grip. "You're no fun, boo. Let me have fuuuun."

"Not tonight. I'm going home."

Jada's eyelashes fluttered. "I'm not. Scary, scary Blue isn't my mom. I want to have fuuuun."

"Fine," Blue rolled her eyes. As much as her time with Jada wasn't horrible most of the time, she hated dealing with her when she wanted to have fuuun. "Go home with Seb."

The little one ran off to the dance floor once more, entranced by a song that was so repetitive that it had just become one beat to Blue. She told Sebastian that he was taking care of Jada tonight, to which he responded by nodding and wishing her a goodnight.

She hummed to herself, paid hers and Jada's tab and began walking home.

"Fuck," a cold chill crashed into her lungs. Her muscles flexed instinctively and she tightened her coat around her body.

She thought back to that girl, Veronica. The easy victory.

She couldn't have been older than eighteen or so. Her speed must've been one of her strengths, since her name was Veronica Strike, but compared to Blue, she was nothing but a rookie. Blue should've felt annoyed that the game didn't even make her heart go crazy, that there was no challenge. Blue's agility, strength and speed were better than some of the male competitors. They didn't have the courage to fight her, after she fought Dean Destroyer and hurt him so bad that he didn't get out of bed for a week.

At this point—she just didn't care all that much. About, anything, really. Her friends thought she was depressed, but she simply laughed in their faces. Being fearless, being a pillar that would never fall, giving zero fucks about the world weren't signs of depression; they were Blue's favorite qualities.

She didn't need anything to fuel her other than her will to live better than others. This was what kept her sane—through the workouts that made her entire body sore and the dizziness she had when she had forgotten to eat for an entire day.

Blue heard footsteps behind her and grinded her teeth together, clearing her mind from any overbearing thoughts. She was still two streets away from her apartment, and she definitely wasn't in the mood to deal with a man trying to harass her.

"Hey, wait up!" a scratchy voice said behind her. She didn't know who this was. Could it have been the guy from the bar? No, his voice was a little higher than that.

Her pace was quicker now, her breath was held in. She was trying to recognize the footsteps: see if they seemed in any way familiar to her. Nothing came to mind. He followed her to the next street, which confirmed her suspicions that his goal was her.

She established a plan in her head: turn on the alleyway, hide behind the wall, wait for person to turn as well (if he does, he is truly following me) and then punch them in the face.

As soon as her back hit the alleyway, she clenched her right fist and waited for the man to turn her way. Once she saw the shoes near her, she didn't hesitate.

She broke his nose swiftly, a split second before recognizing him.

-

"Fuck", Johnny Grant held his nose and blinked repeatedly, trying to make sense of what had just happened. "Liezel, you broke my fucking nose."

Blue flinched. "It's not Liezel. It's Blue. Jonathan, that's your own damn fault. You're the one following me around like a fucking stalker."

"I told you to wait up but I thought you had your headphones in!" His nose was officially bleeding. "Fuck. Now, I look like I gave a girl head while—"

He shut up when Blue pinched the bridge of his nose. "Liezeeeel."

"It's Blue," she repeated, squeezing even tighter. He grunted in pain. "Hold your nose like that for ten minutes. You have two minutes to tell me what you want."

"I just recognized you from afar," his voice was nasally and even though the height difference between them was indeed a few inches, she was standing with her back straight and his was a little hunched. He had a clear view of her striking features, especially now that car headlights kept flickering on her. "You've changed a lot. You look great."

"Johnny, what're you even doing in Miami? I thought you and your family moved to New York."

He grinned through a bruised face. To her, he still looked crazy. His brown hair was sleek, falling back because of his head position. He had the attitude of someone who knew more about the streets than his own home, but the looks of a boy who drowned in good genes. The kid she knew from kindergarten  had the same glint of amusement in his eyes, only present Johnny had red rims around them.

Present Johnny also didn't know how much Blue and Liezel were disconnected. He didn't know how hard she pushed Liezel under the dirt to grow from it.

"Had some unfinished business here," he said, wiping his lips from the blood with one free hand. Blue wrung her hands in his shirt, annoyed of having blood on her hands for the second time that night. She needed to order pizza and get some sleep, not reunite with childhood friends (crushes) whom once confused her heart.

She squinted at him. "Are you doing drugs?"

"No," his smile never left. "C'mon, Liez—Blue. Me? Drugs? You've known me for way too long."

"Your eyes are red and you smell like shit," Blue crossed her arms. "And I haven't known you since you've been twelve years old. A lot changes in eight years."

He shook his head, "never touched anything, darling. What are you doing, still here? Shouldn't you be in college or working or something?"

"Or something," she replied. "Two minutes are up. Put some ice on your nose to help with the blood."

She got past him and began walking home, her mind feeling emptier than usual. He ran after her, shouting her name and getting it wrong several times. "God damn it, Blue! Hold on."

"What now?" Blue stretched her neck out, a little groggy from the alcohol and efforts of the day. Their interaction drained her inexplicably.

Johnny was on something, she didn't doubt that anymore. His skin was smooth and his smile even smoother. "You can't just punch a guy's face and leave him like that," he said. "Stranded. I thought you were nicer than that, Blue. What's up with that, by the way?"

Suddenly, she saw the shadow of the little girl she'd buried for ten years beside her. She looked up at her with big eyes and trembling lips.

Liezel didn't know how to not look afraid, without him anyway. Blue only knew power."You don't know me anymore. You knew Liezel. I'm Blue. Two different people."

"That, darling, is total and complete bullshit. I'll let it pass; we'll have more time to discuss this."

"No, we won't. Get back to your life, Johnny." She didn't face him, again.

"Johnny! Come with me, I'll show you my hideaway."

Liezel loved him, as much as her little heart could. Blue didn't remember the last time she thought those words about anyone.

"Why don't you bring back Liezel, Blue? At least, she was a decent human being. She was the sunshine."

"And I'm the damned rain," she shouted back. And weak Liezel left her side, because she only appeared when both hearts were near.

Blue wanted, more than anything, to punch him in the face again and make him bleed even more. Her nose flared and she closed her eyes to regain control of her body. Instead of doing what every inch of her body wanted to do, she raised her manicured middle finger in the air and strutted away.

Liezel is gone, Johnny. She is dead. She died on the day that you moved away.