Fiction Friday: The Kitchen

Fiction Friday is a thing I’m going to be doing on Fridays (when I remember to at least) where I post a short fiction story – or portion of a story. Just something to exercise my writing skills and hopefully develop them into something worthwhile.

Kat had the upper hand early on in the fight. She struck first, feinting right knee, but instead lunging forward and swinging the edge of her right elbow into Reggies temple. The impact was hard and viceral, she could feel her elbow bury into his skull. This fucker wasn’t going to leave her kitchen alive.

FUCK. The shock from the impact traveled the lenght of Reggies spine. He could feel it in his feet. The vision in his left eye went black and he knew he was in trouble. He staggered back instinctively bringing his left arm up to block any other incoming attacks. He looked around the kitchen, searching franticly for a weapon. Something, anything to turn the fight in his favor. He knew there was a knife block but it was behind Kat, and she was obviously determined not to let him reach it… or the exits.

Kat struck again, this time with a left side body kick. She was a bit too slow with the delivery though and Reggie had managed to recover from the initial assualt faster than she anticipated. He grabbed her leg and managed to sweep her right foot, delivering her to floor with a stiff thud. The air rushed out from her lungs and she found herself gasping for breath like a diver returning to the surface. She brough both legs up as fast as possible to keep distance between her and Reggie, she had to figure out her next move and quickly. She had lost the initiative in the fight.

Reggie was suddenly more confident. Sure he might be completely blind in his left eye, but he was going to kill this fucking bitch for it. She was bringing her legs up to block him from closing the distance on the ground, so he started delivering a fury of kicks to her sides, shoulders, legs, anything he could get a hit on. He was starting to breathe heavy, and he knew he should back off and look for a weapon again, but he decided to push through it and end this now while he had the advantage.

The kicks were brutal, not only because they were unending and relentless, but also because Reggie liked his steel-toed boots. The fucking prick. Kat could feel her ribs giving out under the assault, she had to do something. She started trying to grab his feet, but that only manage to get her hand in the way, which definitely felt like a few broken fingers were added to her growing list of injuries. Then Reggie did something she wasn’t expecting, he leaned down and started punching her. It took a few hits for her to catch on but after that it was time for her to change up the dynamic.

She grabbed his right arm, arching her back high. She pulled him down as hard as she could with both arms, bringing her right leg up behind his neck while she wrapped her left leg around the front of it. She locked her left foot around her other leg and began to squeeze and rotate her hips inward as hard as she could. She could hear Reggie gasping, choking, gurgling as she was compressing his throat – as well as his carotid artery. He’d be unconcious in a few seconds.

Reggie was fucked. He knew it. The vision in his only good eye was starting to get black and fuzzy. He knew going for her legs was a lost cause. She had his right arm locked and pinned deep into her body. Reggie was clawing around franticly with his left hand. He found something. He got his hand on it and pulled it with all of his strength, swinging it down onto Kats face.

A FUCKING STAND MIXER. The fuck hit her with a fucking stand mixer! Are you fucking kidding me?! Kat thought.

“Jesus fuck” she said as she released Reggie and rolled away. She could feel blood rushing to and from her face. It poured out like a faucet was turned on. Reggie half coughed, half laughed as he recovered, crawling to the other side of the kitchen.

“Thought I’d mix things up a bit”

No he fucking didn’t. He doesn’t get to come into my kitchen, fuck me up and then make stupid puns.

“Shut up and fight” She grutned as she charged him.

She moved fast but he managed to block most of her attacks. A few elbows and knees connected – very satifyingly to Kat – but Reggie was still standing. He retaliated a few times, but she could tell he was running on empty. Time to put the nail in this coffin she thought.

Reggie went for a body kick of his own but she caught it and spun around striking his working eye with her fist. Light flashed in his eye for a few seconds, he could feel Kat swinging his body around, contorting him into some kind of hold. Then he felt the pressure on his chin and top of his head and he knew what she was trying to do. She was twisting his head hard – he started to resist, tightening his neck muscles and striking her in the body to prevent her from snapping his neck.

Goddamn this fuckers neck is like a tree trunk. Reggie was getting lucky with his body blows too, he had hit her broken ribs a few times and Kat wasn’t sure she would be able to take another one. She was straining with all her strength, trying to twist his head clean around on his body. She could feel the sweat dripping down her entire body as she strained harder and harder.

Reggie got in what he figured was a lucky shot because she instantly let go of his head, though not before delivering a few fists to his nose which left him dazed again, this time with his own blood running over the area. He struggled to find his balance, and collapsed under his own weight onto the floor.

Kat regrouped as fast as she could. She had been knocked back into the counter by Reggies lucky elbow into her ribs. She was proper pissed now but she was determined. Her hands were slick with blood and sweat, she needed to clean them off a bit. She saw something out of the corner of her eye, grabbed it and lunged after Reggie.

She got a much better grip this time, fiercely locked around his neck, and she was bending him upwards off the floor, like a letter “U” using her body to weigh his center down. He struggled, but he was empty at this point. She strained, twisting her arms and torso violently. This time however, her grip didn’t slip and she was rewarded with a sickening crack of Reggies neck sucumbing to the rotation of her body. He went limp and all the reistance was gone. She let his body drop to the floor, looked at what she had grabbed from the counter and started to laugh uncontrolably.

It was a jar-opener doily, with the words “grip-rite” embroidered onto it. A lame christmas gift from her sister last year.

“Thanks sis” she said as she slumped down against the cabinets.