fight club ★ h.s.

ch. 1

It was rare that Stella couldn't sleep at night. A cup of camomile tea and a book usually did her in; 10 pm was her self-given bedtime. Yet, the book she was reading kept her on the edge of her seat and the tea just wasn't enough to counteract. So when she looked at the clock on her bedside table and it read midnight, she decided it was best to put down the book and pick up some poetry. As for the empty tea cup, that just wouldn't do.

It took two flights of stairs to get to the kitchen to make her second cup of tea. The house was dark aside form the occasional hallway or bathroom light kept on. The house was too large and too often empty to be kept completely dark. Stella hated when the house was dark. She was waiting for the electric kettle to heat, when she heard the yells. At first she couldn't place them, couldn't seem to find the source; the TV in the main room had been turned off before she went up to her room, the radio in the kitchen was never on and no neighbours were close enough to make such a startling noise.

The voices were quiet for a moment before they erupted again, this time a bit louder, deeper and with other clattering behind it. Stella was fearful of the aggression and the numbers that were behind the noise. She walked the entire first floor, forgetting about her tea and poetry completely. In the dining room, the noise was louder, Stella found herself dropping to the floor trying to find the source, wherever it was, and crawling to the air vent on the far wall; the voices were loudest there.

Downstairs, it had to be coming from downstairs. She walked down the hall, knocking and then poking her head into her father's study, finding it odd that the green lamp on his neat desk had been turned off. It seemed odd even past midnight as that's the only place Stella knew her father to be. She had never seen the light off before, she had never seen the room so dark or felt it so cold. The hair always had a warmth to it and the smell of cigars and hard liquor constantly lingered in the air. Gently shutting the door she walked to another that opened to the stairs.

It was rare that Stella ventured into the basement. It was darker than the rest of the house, colder and there were more rooms than she cared to explore. Everytime she had gone down she only spent time in the main open area. It wasn't a room, it didn't feel right to call it that. The walls were bare aside from a mirror on the smallest wall, which wasn't small at all, and the floor was a cold, hard concrete. It wasn't warm or comforting and it always smelled slightly of bleach, Stella didn't care for it. Still, she pushed the heavy door open.

The yelling was made much louder, Stella's brow furrowed. The voices were dark, but cheering and it all but consumed her - made her want to cover her ears and run back to the peace of her room. Her feet slowly and quietly, carried her down the stairs, her hands grasped the railing tightly and she held her breath not knowing what was awaiting her. The wall on her left stopped halfway down the stairs, as she approached it the scene before her opened like curtains on a stage. The shock value high.

Stella's feet were frozen on the step just past the wall. The cheers had quieted slightly and continued to do so, but she remained unnoticed. There in the dark open room stood two shirtless men with hands wrapped in bloodied tape, surrounded by no less than a hundred men, at least that's what it seemed to Stella.

The two men, one with slick blond hair, the other wavy brown hair, sweat making it curl slightly, were being pulled back from each other. The brown haired man bounced on the balls of his feet for a moment before become grounded again, but Stella only took a second to notice him before her eyes found one man in particular, moving between the two men.

"Daddy?"

Stella's voice was by no means a yell or anything above what she thought was a whisper, but it pierced the air and whatever murmurs that were still bouncing off the white walls halted. All eyes shot to her and her eyes widened, mouth still agape. She was the only female in the room, no one apart from her father had known she was even in the house. That's how he wanted it, how he needed it to be.

Her eyes left her father's as soon as the word left her mouth and they traveled through the crowd, met by many, but stuck to the green ones near her father. There was a bruise beginning to form around his right eye and his lip was open, bleeding. Yet Stella still found him pretty.

The fighter was brought out of his hardened mindset as he stared into the honeypot eyes of the little girl on the stairs. She didn't belong here. And he wanted nothing more than for her to tear her confused eyes away from his and run her bright yellow socked feet back upstairs. Away from the prying eyes of the rich men, away from the clouds of smoke that left their mouths and away from him.

Mr. Montgomery, Stella's father, snapped out of his shock pointed to another man in an in button shirt and made wide strides towards the stairs. The men in partial suits and discarded dress shirts made a path. He thought the same as the fighter: she didn't belong here. And he moved up the stairs and grasped his daughter's hand, leading her away from it all. Shutting the door hard behind them.

Stella had many questions. What was happening in the basement? Why was it happening? Who were the two men in the middle and why were they bleeding? Were they okay? Who was the brown haired man? Why was her father in the middle of it all? Her roaming thoughts were cut short.

"What on earth were you doing down there Stella? You should be in bed, asleep," Mr. Montgomery's voice was harsh and pointed, but not loud.

He led her up the other two flights of stairs to the top floor. Away from the dark basement. Neither of their eyes met.

"I'm sorry, Father. I couldn't sleep, I was making tea and I heard yelling. I was curious and you weren't in your study," Stella said it all in one breath, wanting to continue, but stopping herself. She couldn't bring her eyes up from the hardwood floors of bedroom doorway.

Her father was nothing but stress. He wanted her safe, the basement at this time with the event going on, was not. It rarely ever was and he wanted it all to be kept out of her life.

"Why don't you go to bed now? We will talk about this tomorrow." There was no question and Stella knew that, so she nodded her questions away.

"Goodnight, Father," she said giving him a kiss on the cheek.

He returned the words, made sure her bedroom door was closed and hustled back down to the secrets.

word count: 1249