i│guilty│

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Lightning crackled through the night air, making the shadowed room ablaze

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Lightning crackled through the night air, making the shadowed room ablaze. Rain is coming. I'm not usually at the gym so late but tonight was different. The day had been long and difficult. I needed a release that only the smell of sweat and blood could provide. Copious amounts of testosterone that filled the air fueling me further to pound the bag in front of me. I slam my fists into the bag, swinging left, then right. I pound the heavy red vinyl as though it were alive. Wishing it were alive. Wishing it were someone who dresses in fine leather and drinks hundred year old cognac.

The kind of adrenaline that coursed through my tempered veins was my only vice to speak of. It was the kind that you lived and breathed for, my own personal drug. I lock my knees to keep myself from falling to my knees as the pain burns through my body. The usual slow buzz begins in my head and heads south. I try to fight back what is coming. But it's only a matter of time. Truth be told, I don't even know why I fight it anymore. Lately, it doesn't seem to matter. It's inevitable.

The anger.

No, not anger. That's not deep enough, not vast enough and doesn't even begin to describe this feeling. What I am feeling can only be described as rage. It begins in my gut and spreads quickly, almost exploding, an intense heat consumes my entire being. I breath out through mg nose in deep shallow breaths. I think that if it anyone could see it lighting a match is the closest thing to resembling it. Something so completely stagnant until it hits the striker, then burning hot. It's almost breathtaking in it's wild beauty but not easily controlled. Especially when stoked. It's violent.

Uncontrollable.

I think back to the manila envelope that landed on my desk, with it's deep black lettering and address stamp that told me that the date was upon us. It was time to let go and move forward. Since the reading of the will eight months ago, everything around me seemed to be going in fast forward while I was stuck on pause.

I stumble, nearly landing on my ass. I grabbed onto the bag, steadying myself, with sweat dripping down into my eyes, I squeeze them shut. Distorted images of the past bled through my mind, like everything just happened yesterday.

Where had the ten years gone? Those years came and went all too fast. Back when my life made sense. Before we moved to this city made of hell. Today I spend my days chasing mostly delirious, cheating old men around. My stepfather gave me those cases because I'm female and not a troll. Those were his exact words, not mine. Truth be told I'd never gotten over him saying that.

Once and while I'll get a special case, those didn't happen often enough. So I wouldn't exactly call what I do a nine to five, but it appeases him just enough to stay off my back. The job itself is okay, if you don't count the endless hours that usually only adds up to some photos, sometimes a video or my favorite; an up close and personal altercation. I gotta say those kinds were the most fun. The looks on their faces when they know they've been caught. Those who had the courage to confront me, which happened some of the time. Most with blood shot eyes, because they were three sheets to the wind. While others had whiskey dick that they just let flap in the midnight air, imagine trying to get rid of the image out of your brain.

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