Underground Hatred - My Hero Origins (MHO)

29: Surge

Word Count: 2174

TW: Fighting, Blood

(Kat)

The ground beneath Kat erupted, shooting her through the air to crash down on the packed dirt below. The impact forced a breath out of her lungs. Wheezes plagued her chest, a burning against her cheek, palms, and knees stung with a mighty force. One half of her face was smacked against the dirt, the sediment building in her eyelashes. Dirt sucked into her mouth as she gasped, fingers clawing the ground; Kat's fingernails were the only portion of her hands to bury themselves into the dirt, but even then there were barely any pebbles to cake the underside of her short nails. The tumbling and struggling forced Kat to be one with the earth, covered head to toe with mud, grass stains, and beaten up cuts packed with rocks. Her clothes were torn, the blazing sun above poking through the holes and causing burns to form.

The pain was extreme, but so was Kat's sensation to prove everyone wrong.

"Up, Kathryn! You've barely touched your brother!"

Sputtering, Kat peeled her face from the ground: "But the—the competition is n—not even! Isn't that yo—your philosophy, Dad?"

"Again!"

A curse spat out from under Kat's breath, her amber eyes peering back from where she originally was launched from. The world teetered, spinning beneath her, but the brunet boy twenty feet away was prepared: a rocket of stalagmites shot its way towards Kat at an unbelievable speed. Kat's shoulder towards the sky automatically forced itself back, sending her into a roll that landed her a few feet away. Dizzy amber eyes connected with the trail, finding the vicious rocks to penetrate the sky where Kat once laid in exhaustion.

The gruesome image of Kat becoming a kabob became food for thought. Her glossed over eyes darkened at the thought, the blood staining her vision a deep red. The brutal sun above turned a scarlet red, casting theatrical spotlights to the earth. The iron within the dirt in Kat's mouth picked itself apart from the rest of the earthy taste. A heavy sensation ached her chest, like a fist was crushing her heart.

Head still spinning, Kat's palms forced her off the ground to stand her to her feet. Knees knocked together, hands pulsating with a sting, but Kat was still standing. She glanced down, her t-shirt in practical tatters while her legs were ripped up, her gym shorts not much protection against the brutality she faced. She ran a hand beneath her nose, sniffing to stop it from slightly running. The back of her hand came back smeared with blood, mixing with the dirt to create a coagulated mess.

"Come on, what are you waiting for?"

Kat's head swiveled back, finding a man to be standing at the edge of the dirt field, leaning against a wooden blockade. The red of the sun diffused the color off the man, but he was a spitting image of the brunet boy, just older. His eyes bore straight into her soul, picking her apart piece by piece: analyzing, determining, understanding something that Kat had no clue of. Each piece was a part of Kat, the tear of her soul coming down to the basic need he sought out for: power, potential, dignity.

"I can't!" Kat screamed, her voice coming out choked. Her eyes burned—not from the dirt nor the sun, but from tears. With a stomp, she cried, "Why can't you see that!"

"I didn't ask for excuses!" the man yelled back, no pity or remorse hidden in his tone. "You have something—something inside you! Get it the fuck out!"

Get it out. Those three words rang through Kat's brain, knocking her to and fro. Get what out? Her anger? The powers that were non existent in her? Her exhaustion, her frustration shook her fists at her sides. A fire ignited within her chest, licking to her limbs. Something sparked within her, like a match hit a surface to start a forest fire. Her veins were the path trails, her hairs the trees, her skin the earth. The blazing trails ignited and soared, not even the creeks and rivers of her sweat to cool them. The energy was a fury within her, encasing her body in a flaming tornado. She was tired of the abuse, sick of the discrimination. She was exhausted: the exhausted that was going to end something at whatever cost it took.