Chapter 1: The End

~Layla~

I pull the hat over my head and duck. If Grandmother spots me here, she will be furious.

"Place your bets here! The fight will commence in three minutes!" announces the man at the counter. I walk stealthily, careful not to alert anyone of my presence. Gram is not the only person I'm afraid of.

"Ten dollars on Reya winning, please," I say to the man as I hand him the money.

"Ten dollars? Is this a joke?"

"No. Can you just submit the money. This is all I have," I proclaim vehemently. I had to sell newspapers on the corner for this money.

Gram doesn't like to announce that we are poor. I know otherwise, but I wouldn't dare to bring it up in front of her.

"In this corner, we have the three-time champion: MATT GARIG," screams the announcer. The boy is young- he looks about twenty years old. Strong, but not very experienced.

I don't like to watch the fights, so I head to the back, my dark hair whipping against the strong wind. It hasn't looked good around here for a while, but the storms are the least of our problems.

"And in this corner, we have a new challenger. Something tells me this is going to be interesting! REYA VAIDEHI," he shouts.

I always shudder when I hear her name. From a young age, Reya used to love the fights. When she disappeared, I had a feeling this was where she went.

She jumps into the arena and stays still, waiting. I can't help but look as she turns to the crowd to hear their response. All of a sudden, she sees me. She holds a stare, her hazel eyes pulling me in. We both got our eye color from our mother. I would know her eyes anywhere. She breaks the stare abruptly, turning to face her opponent.

I can't watch this.

I walk out of the room and stand outside in the rain. The sound of punches seeps through the wall, though I try and block it out. After I hear a bell sound, I walk back inside.

Reya stands over the boy, her arm raised into the air. Her arm looks badly bruised, but aside from that, she looks okay. I breath a shallow sigh of relief.

I walk over to the counter to take my winnings. The man grabs my arm, stopping me from turning. He hands me the ten dollars with an angry expression.

"Don't come back here again, kid," says the man, letting go.

I swiftly run out of the stadium. The house is only three minutes away, if I run. I speed home, kicking water into my thin shoes as I go. The second I see the faint outline of Gram tending to the garden, I know I'm home. I plant a kiss on her cheek, scaring the daylights out of her.

"Hey, Gram," I exclaim with a slight smirk.

"Oh, no. What have you been up to, Layla?" she responds with hesitation.

I take the tray of plants from her tired hands and step in front of her, planting them as we waltz towards the house.

"Nothing. I was just studying with some school friends," I lie instinctively.

Suddenly, I hear a thud. Gram is laying on the ground, gasping for air.

"Gram!" I call as I reach for her.

"I- need- the cup of- water from inside," she wheezes. I rush inside and grab her water from the table. I slam the door behind me, alarming the dog from next door.

I sit next to Gram, helping her up as she drinks.

"Layla- you have to- know something," she chokes out. The somber look on her face is telling.

"What is it, Gram?" I ask inquisitively. My hands go to the water, pulling it away so that she can speak. I am hesitant as I stare into her eyes: the same eyes that my mother had. She tilts her head at me.

"What is it?" I repeat.