“Savin’ that seat for anyone special?” A gruff voice asked, his eyes roaming each inch of her stem.

“Nobody’s special.” Kicking the seat, she dropped her foot to the floor and turned to down the double shot placed beside her.

“On the house, Rox.” The barkeep called over the music.

“Maybe you just ain’t found the right kinda special.” He placed his hand up high on her thigh, teasing the edge of her skirt.

Brave little bunny.

“Maybe so.” A wink at the barkeep in thanks before turning her stone cold gaze to the unkempt beast with wandering paws. “but it seems I just keep gettin’ the short bus kinda special ‘round these parts.”

Insulted, he pulled his hand away from her with a dirty look. Her stern gaze didn’t falter, simmering temper.

“Damaged goods.” He grumbled and stalked off.

Think the pretty little blonde would get a breather?

From the other side, while turning to nod for another double, a cleaner looking drugstore cowboy pulled up a seat and called for the barkeep to get him the same.

“Gal like you’s gotta be out on the hunt tonight, lookin’ that good.”

Tongue running over the inside of her cheek while she ignored him. She knocked back the second whiskey double like it was water.

“Impressive, impressive. That one’s on me.” He said to the bartender, and turned back to her. “Might just drink me under the table.”

At no point did she give him any acknowledgement, but to him it seemed that she didn’t give any rejections either, so he continued.

“I think we could do a lot of damage to each other if you wanna go somewhere quiet. Maybe back to my place.” His hand moved up to her icy blonde hair and pushed a lock back from her face.

“You’d be prettier if you smiled.” His voice going soft, raspy.

… he did not …

Her hand caught his wrist and twisted it down and back. From the look on his face he definitely wasn’t expecting the tiny thing to cause so much pain.

“Touch me again and I’ll bust your f***in’ kneecaps.” She released her grip on him, shoving him back.

A look of pride on the barkeeper’s mug while he slid her another drink. He didn’t need to worry about this one, he knew she could handle herself. She always had.

“Psycho bitch. You’re a bloody psycho bitch. All’s I was trying to do was give a little charity f*** to your drag queen looking ass. All’s ya had to say was no.” He held his injured wrist close to him, his words shaking while he called her down. “Why dress like a slut if you don’t want that kind of attention, huh? You’re a dyke, I get it. All’s you had to say was that you weren’t into d*ck!”

The bartender picked up his phone to call for one of the bouncers but it was already too late. She’d been called a slut. She’d been called worse. She’d been called every name in the book. What set off her fuse? His rampant homophobia. Why did the rejected always have to bring sexual preferences into their insults? The chair she’d been perched on slashed him across the knees to knock him down, then she pounced. Teeth bared, fists flying.

Blood decorated the surface around him while she repeatedly slammed his head down on the old wooden floor. He was down for the count when the burly man from before grabbed her from behind and swung her around to throw her against the bar. Winded, she reached over the counter, cheesy western style, grabbed a bottle and turned to break it over his head. Liquid E V E R Y W H E R E.

“F***in’ cunt!” He growled, staggering back towards her, his ham fists swinging erratically. He didn’t care who he hit on the way. Of course there were a few casualties since a few morons just wanted to catch it on their phones instead of getting the hell out of the way. A girl was hit and folded by his elbow. Her partner caught her unconscious body and handed her to the person next to her, then started taking swings at the beast.

A drunk pick-me girl decided it wasn’t going to be two against one, and sided with the beast. Double Rox’s weight, she ran full force at the blonde and grabbed a handful of hair.

Jesus Christ.

Rox growled, she’d been with a few guys who yanked harder than this. Grabbing a fist full of the brunette lightning’s hair, she yanked her head back and slammed it into the woman’s head. She saw stars immediately, and blood spewed from both of them. She took a brief moment to collect herself before throwing a fist into the woman’s face.

By the time the woman was down, it had become a full fledged brawl. Rox came in for drinks, but she’d been in a m o o d, and this seemed to scratch the restless itch.

A fist missed it’s target and caught her right on the cheek. Welcoming the sting, and the rush of adrenaline that came from it, she turned and threw a left hook into the offender’s face. Someone else brought her to her knees by busting a pool cue over her back. A burst of stars as a knee caught her in the face. Maybe she was seeing stars, but the ugly sucker that did it was going to be seeing galaxies as her fist shot up into his groin. His scream rivalled those of the women around them.

She got up and staggered over, her fist connecting with the jaw of someone who was about to break a chair over someone else’s back. The delicious sound of glass breaking, women screaming, and men yelling cliche insults rang like music to her ears. She craved this, her soul cried for chaos.

I prefer this story to take place in comments. Let it play out long and hard. No ‘one reply wonders’ where everything’s fixed right away. We’ll see where it goes from there.

If you’re only here to read, I appreciate that too. More than you know. xx