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Essay about Creative Writing: Street Fight

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I took another punch to the jaw. I accidentally bit down on my tongue. Blood started to fill my mouth.
It wasn't a fair fight by any means. I was attacked while sleeping by a team of five. I might have been seen as the best fighter on the streets, but I couldn't beat the best gang alone. I shouldn't have stole food from them earlier.
"I'm disappointed, Willow. You don't live up to your reputation," Martin, the leader of the street gang, taunted as I spit blood.
I sneered, "I'll show you!" I struggled, but the two boys kept me against the brick wall. Martin kneed me in the stomach.
"Keep her still. I want to carve her pretty skin and paint her red," he smiled sadistically. The other four snickered as he pulled the sharp dagger from his pocket. There was no escape route, and I couldn't fight all five of them. Plus, they had confiscated my knife earlier. I was done for.
I closed my eyes and waited for the inevitable. Not too many could survive on the streets of London, especially a teenager. Every minute was a bloodbath waiting to happen. I knew that; I caused most of them! It was my time, and I was ready.
Then, I heard someone fall and feet running towards me. My eyes snapped open. Martin was lying on the ground, blood pouring from the back of his head. The two boys holding me against the wall left to fight whoever was interfering, and I slid to the ground. I watched with wide eyes as my enemies fell one by one around me. Soon, they were all dead.
I wiped the blood from my chin and slowly stood up. Sighing, I examined all the knife cuts on my body. I was going to have a few more battle scars to add to my collection. "Nice seenin' ya again, Willow," Greg greeted me, taking in the scene gleefully.
I narrowed my...

... middle of paper ...

... mother's wedding ring. All of my family is dead. It's the only thing I have left of them. It's been with me through everything. I can't live without it." I could feel Adam scrutinizing me. He was trying to tell if I was telling the truth or not.
Then, something was thrown and landed right in front of me with a little clatter. I gasped and hurriedly put the ring back on my finger. I looked up at him, seeing him glare at me. "Keep the ring, but you must work as a maid at Forester Manor. Your payment will be having shelter, being fed, and being clothed. You are to protect me at any cost if for some reason Michael or the other servants can't. Now, come." He raised an eyebrow at me, daring me to rebel or argue.
Instead, I placed a hand over my heart as I had seen the servants do when I was younger. I bowed my head before following him to my new life, "Yes, my lord."

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