My eyes blankly stared at the moving pictures on my phone. I was thinking about Elektra. Matt told me a member of the Hand broke into his house and tried to kill him, then Elektra slit his throat with no hesitation. It was a difficult situation. The ninja was just a kid, but then again, he tried to kill Matt. Regardless, Matt told her to leave, and she did.

    My eyes focused on the post I’d been staring at for a minute. It was a woman in Paris, but it wasn’t Elektra. I let my eyes wander around my apartment for a moment, trying to find something that wouldn’t make me think about her. It didn’t work, and my mind instead remembered what Stick told me.

    “You taught her compassion.” I whispered.

    I had to laugh. Such a cold woman couldn’t have any compassion. I didn’t teach her anything. I couldn’t. But I still missed her. I missed the unpredictability she brought into my life, and I miss the sense of freedom she had. She made me feel liberated. She was the first person to show me how fun life could be. With that came a price, of course, but I wouldn’t be who I am without her.

    I looked at her contact on my phone, even though I knew she probably wouldn’t have the same number. It was hard to pull away. I did in the end. I scrolled down to where Phoebe’s contact was, and my finger hovered over the call button. We hadn’t spoken in a long time again. I felt like everything was crumbling apart and there was nothing I could do about it. Like that one video of the raccoon eating cotton candy but it dissolves into the water. That made me dryly chuckle.

    I buried my head in my hands and decided I should paint. It just comes to me sometimes, the feeling of having to create something. Since I had nothing to do, I decided to follow through with my plan anyway.

    I prepared my colors, palette and mind. I was going to paint how I felt again.

    After around 2 hours, I stepped back to look at what I made.

“There we go. That feels better.” I closely analyzed what needed adjustments and dove back into that world.

Another hour later, I was done. 

My previous painting had Daredevil as the main focus of the painting. I used harsh, thick strokes of black, red, orange and yellow. He was still the focus of my painting, but it was a very different creation. The canvas itself was smaller, I used more detailed brush strokes, my colors of choice were pastel, and he no longer looked like a threat. Daredevil was unmasked here. I was able to capture the angelic features of his face and the reflection of the soft light against his skin. For a man labeled the Devil, he was my angel. He was my salvation. I would be in a dark, sad place if it weren’t for him. 

Him and Elektra were kind of alike in that way. They saved me from the horrors of my own mind; but they were so incredibly different because of that too. Matt reminded me of bright things, things that fostered life, things that knew where to stop being cruel. Elektra was the opposite. She reminded me of temptations, bad ideas and bad memories. But they were the same in the way that they made me who I am today. And I will always thank them for that, taking the good with the bad.

!!warning: spicy!!

I was back in the ring with Matt, having a different attitude today than yesterday. I was determined to get my control and speed in control. I finished wrapping my knuckles in tape and began to warm up with Matt. Today we were sparring.

"Wow, you seem focused today." Matt pointed out.

"I am." I responded.

"Good girl."

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