Fight to the Death

Okay, so you may be wondering about the whole Jefferson Street thing, Right? Well.... I am about to explain my very confusing and fucked up life so it makes at least some sense. Quite frankly I get confused sometimes, actually. Hence the reason I should explain to you before continuing on to the present time.

First of all my name is Valencia Olivia Blaire (or Care Bear if you're my best friend.) I'm 16 and currently trying to get my older brother Nichcoli (Nick-ol-eye) who is 21, to allow my to live with him in New York City. See the reason I'm here in this predicament, is because of my parents...

Five days ago I was still living in LA. I came home from school (the one time I actually go by the way) and they just so happened to pack everything of mine up and move somewhere without telling me. In a matter of 8 hours they disappeared. All they did was leave me with a few boxes, 3 suitcases, and a note that said the following.

“Dear Valencia,
Your father” cringe at the sound of that “and I have decided we need a change in venue. LA just isn't for us anymore, we need to find a place to settle down. I received a promotion” yeah right “ so this seemed like the perfect time to do so. I must say that I am very disappointed in your behavior these past few years and as a result I have decided to “kick” you out, as you refer to what happened with Nichcoli a few years ago. Both of you are highly disappointing. I hope that you grow up and realize how inconsiderate you truly are as your father and I move on with our lives. Please know that we do love you, but this all needs to change before you end up hurting us in the process.
Love Mom.”

I have 4 words in response to that note.
THAT'S FUCKING BULL SHIT!

All my parents are, is inconsiderate, not me. They want that perfect little family where they have the two little kids and a really nice, cozy home...without two “misfit” older children. I mean come on!Now I admit I'm not a cute little angel and I do do things that aren't very well... whats the word. I'm not nice... caring... friendly? No um well, lets see. Fine! I admit it, I can be a bitch sometimes. But face it, their big “American dream” ain't going to happen. They don't have the money, nor the chance of ever making enough money for as lazy as they are, and they would never be able to take care of a little kid, let alone two.

So anyways, I decided to take my stuff (and my shiny new black Porsche which I bought myself from savings, I might add) and drive to New York to see Nich, hoping maybe he will let me stay...otherwise I would be on my own. It wouldn't bother me much, being on my own, I actually would very much so prefer it, though people would start to notice sooner or later and that would be bad....

So I got here yesterday and Nich said I could stay. However, it was like 3am and I think he just wanted to sleep. Either that or he was sleep walking? Not sure on that one. When he woke up and saw me, on his couch around noon-ish he kinda flipped out though. So I'm thinking he was semi asleep at the time. It was sort of amusing but he made me feel like a total failure and white trash though.

Which brings us to the “conversation.” He told me to wait at his apartment as he went to work and that we would “talk” when he got back around 8 that night. I did actually stay despite the fact that I wanted to go out and (basically) get lost. I refrained, I swear! Yet I felt like I had cabin fever the whole time... I searched his house though, that amused me for a whole hour.

He didn't come home till 10 instead of 8, and then he basically yelled and went on a tangent about my getting kicked out at 16, while he was 18 and an adult...yadda yadda yadda...how he was disappointed and how I was out of control. Did he think that up at work? Like the whole time, he was planning? I got up to leave, now angry and upset, but he made me stay. It didn't make me feel very good about myself to say the least. It was like he was being forced to take me because he was my older brother. He definitely made that known too.

After the conversation. I wanted to punch something, I was pissed and like always when I'm like this...you don't want to mess with me or be in the same vicinity even. Normally I would just go to the club and beat up a few people to calm my nerves... or in dire needs, go to the gym and beat up a punching bag and other various equipment, but I wasn't exactly in LA anymore so I was alone with a serious anger problem. Yes before you ask, I tried the whole anger management thing last ear if you were wondering and well... it didn't work. I was there for about 3 months and it didn't help any.

Which ultimately brings me to why I called Ale (or Alexzandr). He's this computer genius kid whose 2 years older than me, though he's my best friend in the world. He's the guy who takes care of the locations of the clubs and knows where basically every single one is going on and at what time on every given day. Its freakishly weird but somehow he does it... He is what I live for, no one else seems to care shit about me.

Now, I am in my brothers bathroom changing into different clothes and re-straightening my hair. Last I grab my stuff that I'll need and start making my way to the club that few people truly know about.

The Underground (illegal I might add) Fight Club.