Chapter 14 of I Hate Wonder Woman

(A/N:OOOPSS GUYS SORRY SORRY SORRY! WRITERS BLOCK! AJAJSHHHBSJAK I really wanted to give you more insight into Maxs past and really wanted to add a flashback, soooo... Um... I'm going to take a break from posting...(/0.0/) for maybe six weeks or a month. During that time I will be writing, so I might only have one chapter or maybe I'll have more. I'll try. But also, I'm going to have to do shorter chapters for a while. I'm at a standstill at the moment.)

I unlatched to door of our house, panting slightly after my final sprint.

"That was a great run wasn't it?" I asked Nudge.

She nodded, panting slightly more than me. "It was great. You should really try out for track, too."

I was helping Nudge get a head start on track and field training, because tryouts were in a month, the second week in March. I was more than happy to help her train, because it had been so cold the past few weeks that I couldn't run. But this weekend was a warm one, the temperature hanging in at a toasty -2, which apparently was warm here, for this time of year.

"Thanks. I'll think about it." I grinned.

"You're a really good runner, though. I still need a lot of practice." She breathed heavily, her hands on her knees. "I mean, I'm a bit too out of breath to bother talking too much."

"Eh. You'll never know when you'll need to run." I replied, finally stepping inside. Nudge quickly shed her coat and shoes, leaving them in a pink and glue heap on the brown doorway mat. I heard the sounds of stairs pounding down to the basement seconds later and I was left alone in the foyer.

You'll never know when you'll need to run...

*Begin Flashback*

My feet pounded against the stone street, sprinting as fast as I could, my small lungs burning for air. Strands of my hair blew forward, rather than back, with the wind pushing me forward, and the hair stung my face. This was by far, the worst thing to happen to me yet. I couldn't even look behind me, just pray; I couldn't spare the chance. I just had to run, run, run. I pumped my feet faster, propelling my self as fast as my little eight year old legs could carry me. Sharp bits of rock that had chipped off from the stone roads embedded themselves into the fleshy parts of the soles of my feet. Dust flew into my eyes, causing my watering eyes to blink furiously. The roar of blood pumping in my ears removed the distant sounds of whatever I left behind, my labored breathing, and my pursuers. Even worse, my vision was quickly diminishing. I knew I needed to stop soon or I would end up fainting, and what use was that?

My only hope was to reach a good, thick part of the rainforest to hide in and wait out the Men, because I had already left the small city in Belize. By a long ways too, as the pavement had given way to rocks twenty minutes prior. All my hope was in hiding. I was hopelessly lost and had no way to call for help, and there was probably no one besides the obvious for miles. I was barely able to make out the tall, lush green of a forest ahead, maybe a minute away. Could I make it? My throat burned, my feet were bleeding, everything ached, and my lungs could barely bring in enough raspy breaths to keep my brain functioning. Everything was in fuzzy overload. The area behind my eyes began to pulse, and I could feel the field of my vision slowly pulling inwards. The forest was only a little bit away...

Then, oomph!, I was on the ground, my teeth embedded on the inside of my bottom lip. My legs were sprawled put behind my, my left ankle throbbing painfully. No... No! I could gear the Men drawing nearer! Going against every natural human instinct, I pushed my small body off the ground and started to run again, ignoring the blood rapidly filling my mouth, my ankle already becoming stiff, with the sensation of my green overall leg being stretched tighter and my knees feeling sticky. My fall had provided my body with barely, just barely, enough of a break to pull one strong breath into my lungs and to burst into the thick green foliage. I didn't give any thought to the spiders or any of the other icky things lurking, not even to the snakes with the deadly venom. If I was caught, dying of an excruciating snake bite would be so much more pleasurable than what would come if I was caught. Much.

I could hear clearer now, but could also feel the pain so much more, salty tears stinging my scraped cheeks. I didn't hear the Men in the forest yet, so I took that as a good sign, and let myself slow down a bit, limp-jogging deeper in, weaving myself through, in all directions. Though I was only eight and I couldn't run as fast as the big Men, I had the stamina and endurance more than that of many adults.

Through the twilight-dim light that streamed in through the leaves, I found a suitable tree, and proceeded to clamber up its tall trunk. Half way up, I heard the strains of their deep voices, probably still a distance away, and shimmied up even faster. My intuition had been right, this tree, though it didn't look it, was actually much taller than all the others, extending stron branches up higher than the rainforest canopy. As soon as I got up a good sixty feet up, I relaxed my guard the slightest bit. I had been warned about the Men before, how they may try to steal me for ransom, but they didn't seem all that intelligent. That's what grandpa had said. Or at least his secretary, Nana, had.

I looked down, the main fusion of rich green leaves a good twenty feet below me. I wasn't afraid though, I had always been comfortable with heights. The sunlight shocked my eyes, even though I had only been in the dark forest five or ten minutes.

I wrapped my little arms around the trunk as best I could, and tried to asses the damage.

I had almost peirced my lip with the fall, the wound was almost as thick as my lip and the width of my one front baby tooth. I was lucky the other had fallen out, otherwise I would have had a gaping hole in my face. My hands looked fine, just a few cuts and scrapes, as did my legs. All fine. My ankle on the other hand, did not. Already, It was swollen as large and purple as an bruised avocado, the angle of my foot grotesque. I had to look away, as it, combined with all the blood I had swallowed, the pain, and the exertion was making me nauseous. Eventually, it was too much, and I retched over the branch of the tree. My stomach was empty, and all that came out was a pinky, sour stream of bloody stomach acid. I retched again, a few times, but my bloody vomit quickly gave in to dry heaves, then Nothing. I wiped my mouth on my hand, and found myself only then realizing the oppressive, humid heat that was suffocating me as the last traces of ice cold adrenaline dissipated.

My breath caught up to me almost, and I stayed up clutching the tree until long after the sun had died, and the stars had been born, splayed against the inky sky, a sight that I was too far out of it to appreciate.

...

I never remembered how long I was up in the tree, or how I got home, but the next thing I remember was drinking tea with Nana, her telling me not to pick at my scabs.

*end of Flashback*

I was jolted out of my reverie by a distinct presence in front of me.

"Are you going to take off your coat anytime soon, or were you planning on staying by the door another ten minutes?" Fang asked.

I blushed, embarrassed at my spacing out. "S-Sorry. I'll be right down." I stuttered.

"I'll wait." Fang shrugged, leaning against the wall and picking at a cellophane red heart Mom had put up for Valentines Day, a few days away. I pulled off my coat and shoes and put them away, placing the coat on a hook and the shoes in a cubbyhole.

"Okay." I said, and Fang shed himself off the wall, falling in pace with me as I walked toward the basement. "So valentines day is a few days away, and then your and Iggy's birthday is just a week after..."

"Extraterrestrial Culture Day."

"What?" I asked as Fang and I entered the basement, and making our way to the back room, which had dark brown walls and sofas and beanbags and a bar fridge and a pool table and a flatscreen tv and was the quintessential rec room.

"Valentines day is not observed my me. On that day, I celebrate Extraterrestrial culture day... Because you know, we need to be aware when they visit." Fang explained.

Fang and I plopped down on a beanbag chair together, watching Gazzy get pwned by Angel in Call of Duty.

"Why is an eight year old even playing MW2 anyways?" Gazzy whined.

"I think Valentines day is cute..." I told Fang. "Sickening, but cute."

"Got a valentine?" Iggy asked, poking his head out from a cupboard, a bag of chips in hand.

"No." I said, as he say down beside us, on a yellow smiley-face beanbag chair. "Of course not."

"Want to be my valentine?" Iggy asked jestingly, going down over dramatically on one knee in front of me.

"Well, by golly!" I laughed, playing along, putting one hand out and taking his lightly. "I better ask poppa first, but I shore would like to!"

The video game was paused, and everyone one was cracking up at our old-fashioned scene except for Fang, but that was expected.

"Darndy!" Gazzy cried, throwing his hands up. "I was going to ask her, the fairest maiden on this side of the train tracks, I'll reckon."

"And I was going to ask you, Sir Gasman!" Nudge moaned theatrically. "Oh, what a tizzy! Whatever will we do?"

"Well, we cant have hurting! I do say, we should have a competition for who gets who!" I suggested.

"Call Of Duty!" Iggy shouted, jumping onto the couch.

"Thank God I'm not playing." I sighed. "I'm terrible at that game. I am the worst at video games ever. Everytime I try to kill someone, I get killed. And then I get un killed and then I die again."

Gazzy snorted. "Un-killed?"

...

...

"Arg!" I cried, exasperated. "I can't do this, give up on me!"

"No!" Iggy shouted back at me. "Once you start, you can't stop! Don't you know the horrible things that will happen if you don't stop? All the trouble we face? We promised." Iggy shoved the handle of the knife back into my hands, and I took it, afraid not to.

"But I can't do this!" I whined desperately, my face heating up with frustration. I hung my head down, and small tendrils of brown hair hung into my vision. "I can't." I repeated quieter.

"You can." Iggy insisted intensely. "Do it, Max. Finish the job."

Cold flooded through my veins. I looked down at the knife in my hands. It was sharp and large, perfect for my job, perfect for slicing through flesh, some of it possibly mine.

I couldn't do this. The thing I was about to... About to dismember, about to hack up, it had once been alive. A living thing with a heartbeat and feelings.

"What if I cut myself? I'm going to hell for this!" I protested. Iggy ignored me.

"Max," Fang said, walking in. "It's a frigging chicken. Stop being so melodramatic."

"But..."

"Shut. Up." Fang warned. He took a step towards me and crossed his arms. "Or I will stab you."

I heaved a sigh in defeat. I had no interest in learning to cook. As far as I was concerned, I would be fine getting take out forever.

Iggy was teaching me how to cook a "basic" meal for the family, Chicken and rice and vegetables, but it seemed like an insurmountable task to me. "How do I do it?" I finally asked, noting that Fang had disappeared without me noticing.

"It's really easy, all I'm asking to do it cut the chicken breast in half by slitting them down the middle, like a fillet of fish. I don't see why you're making such a big deal."

"I'm cooking illiterate." I explained. "Show me how, please."

Iggy pried the knife from my hand and deftly and perfectly cut the chicken. When he finished he gave me the knife, gently placing it in my hand. "Okay. I demonstrated. Now you try."

"Okay." I sighed, tightening my grip on the knife and adjusting my hand until it was comfortable. Iffy turned on the sink and began to wash his hands as I slowly lowered the knife to then foul fowl.

Okay.

I can do this.

I put the knife down, and slid it through the flesh, just as Iggy had done. It was a little less perfect, but he, Rome wasn't built in a day.

I quickly finished slicing up the 6 chicken breasts and followed what Iggy, did, putting the knife in the sink and washing my hands. "Okay." I said putting my hands on my hips. "I'm done. Now what?"

"We make the sauce for the chicken, so we can bake them." Iggy explained. "It's a mustard sauce, so well need garlic, Dijon mustard, white wine, maple syrup, salt Rosemary and thyme, along with a touch of powdered chicken bouillon."

"Whattt?" I asked, dazed. "That's a lot!" Iggy looked at me, so I went around the kitchen, gathering the ingredients and placing them on the counter.

"Okay" Iggy said. "Now we're owing to put them together, drizzle it over the chicken and then bake it."

Iggy explained all the amount of what to put in the sauce, and ten minutes later, the chicken was in the oven baking.

"Now the rice and veggies ,right?" I asked.

"Right."

I grinned. This wasn't as bad as I had thought. With guidance, I could actually manage to put together a basic meal that would, knock on wood, taste half decent.

Whew.