ANTE BELLUM: RAMSEY BIANCHI

I CURLED MY HANDS INTO FISTS AS I SQUARED THEM BOTH IN FRONT OF MY FACE. I repositioned my footing, placing my left foot in front and my right one behind before repeating the same exercise. I threw the first punch on the punching bag as it swayed a little, I proceeded to punch the bag repeatedly. Ignoring the raising pain on my shoulder as my muscles contracted whenever I flexed my left arm, my mind manages to stay focused as I pictured one of my parent's killers.

I then switched the combo and strike the bag with my right hand; two punches with the left arm and one with the right one. The bag swayed harder as I completely lose myself to the familiar pain in my chest and knuckles, I could feel the skin tearing below the protective hand wraps.

I stopped punching before performing round kicks, my feet landing hard blows as I repeatedly kicked the bag. Occasionally groaning when I felt the familiar soreness but I dismissed it, today I had woken up fairly early, 4:00 AM to be exact. Knowing I wouldn't be falling asleep again, I quickly changed into a loose T-Shirt and workout leggings.

Channeling all my anxiety and trauma into the punching bag before me, with a final blow I decided to finish my workout session, or therapy session, as Aunt Ivana likes to call it.

I let out a sigh as I stretched myself, feeling the addictive sensation of sore muscles. It meant that the workout was a success. I went to snatch my towel when I notice something black crawling over it, my hand froze as I stare at the horrendous, human-eating animal that was on my towel.

Realizing what it was I let out a loud shriek before taking off my shoe and throwing it at the demon look-alike; that being a tarantula.

"TAKE THAT SATAN!" I screamed, my breathing coming out aggravated as my eyes searched for the animal. My heart began to beat harder as I realize I had lost the little demon, "I swear if that thing comes back I'm moving out of this city."

Out of the blue, the black and hairy tarantula comes rushing at me. My eyes widen as I jump back in fright, letting out a terrified scream as I leap over it and race out of the garage. I closed the door and lock it, as if the tarantula was going to open the door but hey, better be safe than sorry, right?

"WHAT?! WHERE IS HE?!"

I let out another screamed as I turn around, finding an anxious Connor holding a bat while his eyes searched around the kitchen for an intruder and then settled them on me. Another set of footsteps followed as Aunt Ivana came into view, her hands tying her sleeping robe. 

"What on earth is happening? It's barely 5 AM, can someone please explain to me why is everyone screaming?" Aunt Ivana spoke angrily, her face flushing a rosy color as she scolded Connor and me. "And why the hell are you holding a bat?"

Connor sets the bat down before sending me a glare, "I woke up because someone was screaming bloody murder." He accused.

Aunt Ivana turns to me, expecting an excuse. "I wasn't screaming bloody murder; I was screaming bloody tarantula."

"You're kidding me, right?" Connor scoffs, setting his hand on his hip as he gave me an incredulous look.

I shook my head, "No. I swear to you that demon was huge. I threw a shoe at it but it came back at me, so I of course, like the grown-up I am; made a run from it."

Aunt Ivana threw her hands in exasperation, "Get your butts to bed and I want NO more yelling or I'll lock you out both in the garage" The blonde short woman threatens as she points her menacing index finger at us.

"Yes ma'am." Both Connor and I answer while curtly nodding our heads, Aunt Ivana gave us one last death glare before exiting the kitchen. Connor runs his hand over his face while setting the baseball bat on the counter and moving to get himself a glass of water.

He takes a huge gulp before downing it completely, he sets the glass on the sink and send me a smile. "I would hug you, but you're sweaty and you stink." He wrinkles his nose.

I threw a mean punch to his arm, causing us both to wince. "Geez, sorry. I was joking." Connor said as he massaged his sore arm.

"You should never joke with someone who knows how to box, that is, if you want to end up being their punching bag," I said while I continue to unwrap the bandage, noticing I had actually injured my knuckles.

"You got them bad this time," Connor comments, eyeing my knuckles.

"Yep, I can never get rid of them. Sometimes I really hate this date but hey, it's my birthday too so I don't wanna give them all the credit. Ya know?"

Connor nods, "I know."

He takes my wrist in his warm hand and guides me toward the sink. He opens the faucet and gently sticks my hand below it, I hiss in pain as I felt the wounds start to burn due to the water. Despite not being the first time I did this, it always hurt like a female-dog. After Connor cleaned the wound he took the first aid kit, taking out the alcohol and dipping it on a cotton pad.

"I really hate this part," I whine, Connor chuckles and without warning, he begins to disinfect the wound with the pad.

I stomp my foot hard on the floor as I clench my jaw, ordering myself not to scream or else Aunt Ivana will lock me in the garage with that thing.

"There, there. Almost done." He assures me as he throws the pad on the sink and then proceed to apply ointment before covering the wound with a gauze pad and finally proceeding to wrap it. Once done I admire his handy work before giving him a hug.

"Happy April 12, Rams." He mumbles, his words are soft and tender but they left a raw feeling in my chest; bringing back that dreadful memory.

I inwardly shivered when my eyes made contact with the blood on the sink, sharp memories of the blond man slicing my father's throat caused me to look elsewhere. I was beginning to feel the tension in my chest and the familiar feeling of wanting to scream at the top of my lungs and cry but instead I caged my emotions. They didn't matter, dad always told me to be strong, these panic attacks would just disappoint him. I pressed my cheek on Connor's shoulder blade as I hugged him tighter, this man had taken good care of me since I came here, naturally assuming the position of big brother.

"Happy birthday to me," I mumble, my voice devoid of emotions. My mind picturing blood, screams, and lifeless corpses as a little girl held to them for dear life.

But behind all that panic, anxiety and pain; there was hatred, a small burning fire that held my deepest desire to find that man and kill him with my bare hands. He took everything from me, he took away my protectors.

"You call that a sprint Bianchi? My grandma moves faster than that, and she's dead!" Coach yelled motivational words as I sprint past him and some team mates, I clench my jaw as I grip the red stick I was given.

My feet pound hard against the ground, my legs burning from the intense hours of practice Coach laid on us today. I stretched my arm and felt the stick being taken away from me, I came to a halt before bending over. I took deep breaths as I filled my lungs with air, drops of sweat rolled down my face and some manage to fall on the track's floor. I straighten my spine and slowly rolled back my shoulder as my eyes followed the figure of Frances Bennett running across the track field. The brunette successfully jumping over the obstacles Coach had set up to challenge us, Frances is by far the best athlete Midtown High School has. She reached the finish line before she jogged toward the coach, I made my way toward the forming circle of the Track and Field team.

"This was actually a decent practice; I understand some failed to give their fullest due to the soreness from today's training session. But that is what this is all about, developing stamina, it will all be worth it at the end." We nodded, I brought my hand up to my right shoulder feeling an uncomfortable pain. "That's it for today, hit the showers and get to class."

I nodded and made my way toward my gym bag, snatching it off the benches before making my way toward the locker room. Taking a well-deserved shower before quickly drying off and changing into mom jeans and a Black Sabbath T-shirt. I rolled up the end of the jeans before sticking my t-shirt inside the jeans waist band, I ran a hand over my wet hair before grabbing my phone and notice I had a message from Peter Parker.

I opened the message and notice it was a picture of me running, I smiled as I read what it said underneath.

'Happy 12 Ramsey.'

I quickly answered the text, before locking the phone and proceeding to put on my socks. Peter has always been a nice guy to me. I remember he helped me on my first day of high school, I had lost my schedule and I had no clue how to get to my first class. Luckily he was there to save the day, we sometimes manage to exchange a few words whenever he's photographing the sport teams for the yearbook.

My mind then travels to today's plans causing me to let out a sigh, knowing Aunt Ivana wouldn't let me stay home and watch cheesy romantic movies as an excuse to cry over my parents.

"Nice run out there, Ramsey." A familiar voice complimented, I look up and smiled at Frances or as I like to call her; Baby. If you know, you know.

"Thanks, baby." I wink at her as I finish putting on my black converse. "It means a lot coming from you, cap."

"You and your never-ending nicknames." Frances chuckles before pulling me in for a hug, "Happy birthday, second-best."

Birthday. Deep breaths Ramsey, deep breaths.

"Ha Ha. Humor based on my pain." I manage to say patting her back before turning away, Frances went to hit the showers and I hurriedly made my way out of the locker room.

I began to walk down the semi-empty hallway, it was still pretty early; barely 7:00 AM. I took out my headphones and plug them on the phone's jack-port before scrolling down and pressing Future Nostalgia. I then open YouTube and notice I had already 100 views from yesterday's video of me doing pranks on my neighbors and classmates during April's fool for six minutes straight.

I giggle to myself, that was a classic.

I locked the phone and slide it on my back pocket, I took a moment to lose myself on the nice disco rhythm Dua Lipa blessed us with. I swayed a little as I walk down the hall toward the cafeteria since I was starving, with capital letters, completely losing myself in this upbeat persona I had manage to create after all those depressive birthdays' I had after they died. I then started to focus more on me, this was my birthday even if it still triggers the nightmares and the anxiety I can't seem to get rid of. I had found a healthy way to cope, boxing and track had been my life saviors, they allowed me to forget about the world and find comfort in pain but the good type of pain. That is, body soreness and the usual feeling of being on the brink of death when you feel exhausted you might collapse but nonetheless you keep pushing forward; I manage to give it a wise point of view.

I pushed the double doors and enter the cafeteria noticing that the majority of the students were already here, "Great." I huff.

I made my way through the sea of students until I spotted Gwen sitting down with the Student Council as they seem to be in a heated discussion as I approach.

"-It's unfair those athletes get all the financial help from the school AND its student. What about us who are actually trying to mark a difference?" The Asiatic girl with nice black hair, Dara Yang, complained.

I smirk at their frustration, "And what do you propose? We can't demand this, do you have any idea how much controversy this will cause?" Gwen inquired, her voice calm yet firm.

"Exactly my point." Dara Yang stated.

"Well, nobody really asked for my opinion but I'll go ahead and say it. First of all, people support us because everybody enjoys watching sports. Rooting for your school on a sports event it's a fun activity." Ying/Yang, as I like to call her, scoffs. "If you want to go ahead and complain about how much help we get, well sorry mi ciela but that's really a waste of time."

"Ha. She did it again." Kasem Henderson accusingly points his finger in my direction to which I ignore.

"Excuse me?" Ying/Yang sharply turns her head at me as she snapped, I gave her a lazy smile and shrugged.

"I said what I said."

"Gwen, are you really gonna let her talk to me like that? How dare you co-?" Dara questioned, easily offended, geez.

"- Bring it down a notch, Yang." Duke Sanders groan, his displeased expression clearly stated he had enough of Dara's attitude.

Gwen rolled her eyes, "She can very well do what she wants." Gwen turns to me and smiles lightly, "So what do you propose we should do?"

I chuckled, "You guys do know what fun means, right?"

"Verbal wit or mockery, often at another's expense but not to be taken seriously." The adorable Kasem Henderson said as he pushed up the brim of his glasses with his knuckle.

Everybody turn to him as we took in his response, I slowly nodded at his words which were true. "Yes, precisely BUT it also means doing activities that are enjoyable or amusing. I feel like you should have some sense of humor, I know you're supposed to be role models but come on; you're still kids and so are we. If you want our support, you should come up with ACTUAL fun activities that are enjoyable for everybody."

I finished with a wide smile as I awaited their response, Gwen turns her head to her fellow mates. "Thoughts?" she scans the table, "Dara? Duke? Kasem? Julie? Sabrina?" She calls them.

"Well, she does have a point. Maybe we should stop thinking too much as STUCO and be more like teenagers. Of course, not the wild version since we still have to uphold what we are." Julie commented.

"Which sucks, at times." Sabrina Lee absentmindedly noted, causing all the tables to look at her as she busily typed on her phone while blowing her gum.

"How sure are you this might actually work?" Kasem asks me; I refrain from pinching his adorable cheeks.

"I'm basing myself on the fundamentals of marketing. You're not trying to sell anything, but you are trying to gain their support. So in order to do that, you have to speak the same language. Tu me entiendes?" I sent him a wink in which he shyly looks away.

As I finished talking the bell rang, signaling everybody that hell was about to start.

🅷🅾🅻🅰

The very first chapter of Ramsey's life tried to show you a violent side of herself. The one side she keeps hidden, that being whenever she wakes up gasping for air in the middle of the night due to a nightmare and what she does to cope. Honestly, Ramsey was always supposed to be a character with a traumatic background story, one that did scar her from a young age. This character is my first child, the first one I design and brought to life in this book. But I didn't like how there was no character development, I rushed everything and basically turn her into Peter Parker's love interest. 

Anyway, I have better plans for this book and I changed everything so hopefully the story will turn out good.

Also, I don't know if you noticed the way everyone kept telling her 'Happy 12' instead of the usual happy birthday? Why do you think they did that? Comment below your answer!

Don't forget to give some love and vote! 

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