Authors: Melissa Haag
“Hey, Z. This is your reminder to pack your bag. You promised to cover tonight.”
I growled. “Ethan. You are sick to call me this early. I said I’ll be there. Now, leave me alone.” I ended the call without a goodbye.
The phone rang again before I could drop it back on the nightstand.
“What?” I answered.
“I’ve dusted your gloves, babe. You’re overdue.”
The call disconnected, and I smiled in the dark. Only Ethan—that huge pain in the butt I called friend—could annoy me and make me smile at the same time. He was right. I needed to go in and really purge.
Hitting the bag at home helped, but I suffered from a slow build up. Ethan compared it to PMS. I grew moodier until I started an actual fight. Except the fights were never fair. In my anger, I pulled too much of my opponent’s emotions, and they tended to just stand there with a stupid smile as I hit them. But, I couldn’t avoid the fights. I needed them. Hitting an actual person drained me way more than the bag, and it was the only thing that helped when I got like this. I hated fighting, but didn’t see any other choice.
With a sigh, I slid from the sheets and shuffled to the bathroom. My long, red hair was a tangled mess, and I scowled at myself in the mirror.
I already felt edgy. It would be a long day.