Penelope sealed the letter she had written and tucked it away in her underwear drawer. Carefully, she slid the drawer closed, and held her hand over it for a moment. Turning her back on the drawer, she surveyed her small apartment. It hadn't seemed a drag until recently, really. Until she had started making friends and going out and realizing that her life was empty of a lot of the things other people had. Mainly' Other people.

By the time she met Maria, Penelope had already grown the thick shell of sarcasm that came along with heartbreak. Meeting her at the gym they shared had been an accident, but not an unwelcome one. And though Maria had a large family, and base of friends, and life, really, Penelope had enjoyed talking to her, or at least seeing another woman who seemed to have fight left in her, who wast not broken, not weak. When their spars began, Maria suggested Penelope come check out the fighting arenas. And reluctantly, she did.

Now, tonight, she came home with a bruised shin, and bolstered pride. She wasn't as bad as she thought, and the challenge matches" well, they were spectacular. A pinnacle. Something Penny could get used to.

The penance of a solid beating was something that society deemed inappropriate for people to dole to one another, but completely permissible for strangers. If the man she had wronged beat her face in for retribution, he'd be hauled off to jail. If she let a strange man she had never met beat her to a bloody pulp" It was sport. Given the grave mistake Penny had made, she felt she deserved the sword slashes and face shots that dueling brought.

He had left her on the Fourth of July. It was a date that held little significance to Penelope— she had grown up here, in Rhydin. A street kid of Stars End, running about with her daddy and his cargo ship. But he, he was American. It seemed more and more of them came across the docks, came across the realm. And Penelope loved him.

They went to some festival that happened on the river, and walked hand and hand as fireworks exploded above the city. Penelope remembered that when she first lived here, there were only a few piddly celebrations of the Earth holidays, and even less of the American ones. Now it seemed that business, and therefore life, turned around them. She ran the streets with these children, as they multiplied, and learned their silly accents and saying. She was truly a street rat, though it dismayed her papa to see it.

She could remember the exact moment that she looked up at him, skirt swirling around her knees, and saw that he no longer loved her. It seemed matter of fact at the time, a statement of truth she suddenly just knew— like when someone dyed their hair or changed their clothes. Only later was the true significance of the event really apparent to her.

Penny was good of convincing herself of lies.

The whirlwind of quid-pro-quo pain that had followed was astounding. Recalling it now, Penny was unable to detangle who behaved worse— her or him. And in the end" It didn't much matter. She was left feeling dirty, broken and wrong. She got a gym membership, a new job at a mechanics shop working with her hands, and set about forgetting the whole sordid mess.

Of course, only in the ring when someone was pummeling her, did that work. And so, her friendship with Maria was important, sure, but secondary to the new addiction. For now" That was good enough. Everyone seemed busy with the intrigues of the game, and it was easy for her to slide under the radar.