King's sad Christmas

Christmas had come in Southtown. The snow was falling on the roofs of the houses incessantly, a frozen wind was blowing. Almost any shop was closed, its owners had preferred to stay at home for fear of catching a bad cold. In the Illusion bar the heating had been switched on to its highest pitch, a very tall Christmas tree sparkling with multicoloured lights towered in the middle of the local and when the clients entered, they immediately asked for a cup of hot chocolate they slowly drank in order to stay longer in that comfortable place. It was a merry Christmas, then for the Southtowners. No rumbles, no brawls, no strange psychic balls flying in the sky or hitting someone's chest.

The only balls they were looking at were those which King had hung on the boughs of the tree. Yet, even though she was satisfied to see all those gay people, King wasn't happy. Since her childhood she had been taught she had to fight, if she wanted to be happy and this's what she had always done even at Christmas time. She had never had the chance to be sitting around a warm fireplace, unpacking the presents like every child does at that time of the year.

The only songs she knew were the high and vulgar cries of the howling crowds of people who came and see her matches. Everyone was curious to know who that mysterious blonde fighter was, and nobody had taken interest in her but a heartless crimelord like Mr. Big. "How different I was at that time from the woman I'm now, King thought to herself, my young age and my lack of experience had made think that the life I was leading was really cool. What a fool I was to think that Mr. Big was a kind of good Daddy Longlegs.

When he promised me he'd take care of me and of Jan, I foolishly believed him. "In change for my help, he said, you could help me to get rid of those bastards forbid us to live quietly" Quietly? All he wanted from me was to kill his rivals who tried to overthrow his power in Southtown as a druglord. But at that time his false kindness cheated my naive mind. I only knew that fighting for him meant a better life for me, for Jan and even ....what a fool!! ... for him too. Even if a long time passed since those days, I can still remember those "missions of peace", as Mr. Big used to call them. My fighting skills were not so powerful as they're now, but my Muetai kicks were strong enough to send those common opponents to hell.

Then, finally, one day, that fight against Ryo completely changed my life. That torn shirt which had made me blush with shame was like a small sunbeam which had managed to pierce the dark clouds which had hovered over me for years. Thanks to his love I slowly freed myself from Mr. Big's yoke. For Ryo's love I never left this place, I thought I could quietly live with him. But despite Mr. Big's death, other crimelords and crimeladies came and threatened the tranquility of this place. My long-time dream of living like everyone else never came true. I kept on kicking and punching, punching and kicking to survive. Blood, blood, red is the colour I saw so many times and I keep on seeing. Mr. Big's yoke has been broken, but a heavier one is still hanging on my shoulders; it's my daily struggle for survival. What a heavy burden this is, heavier than the "Albatross on the old Mariner's neck", as Coleridge says.

"Christmas has come but not for me!" said King to herself with a deep sigh and went back to serve appetizers to her costumers, while tears began to roll down her cheeks
And the snow keeps on falling..........

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