The Way of the Fist 🐉Tory Nichols🐉

44. Pain Eternal

Jack stood in Green Dragon Dojo throwing punch after punch into the vinyl punching bag. Screaming through gritted teeth as his anger fueled his punches. Every resounding punch he threw, he found himself thinking of his mother, of his grandfather, and of his father. Thinking of how crucial they have been to every moment of his life.

His grandfather taught him, his father taught him, and his mother taught him. But they never taught him to let his anger get the better of him. They trained him to try and focus that anger into something meaningful in his life, martial arts.

Used it to release every bit of stress he was carrying, used it to push through every hard moment of his life, and used it to grieve...to grieve for his mother.

Jack never really got over the death of his mom. Realistically, who can when your mother was one of the biggest pillars of your life supporting you at every step of the way. Jack tried to convince himself that he had processed her death, but if he was being truly honest with himself...he never did.

Just looking at the tattoo on his arm or a picture of his mother, would shatter him to pieces. He would have panic attacks just thinking of her. He would have nightmares when he dreamed of her. He would find himself every following morning, on the floor of his bedroom shivering and sweating bullets.

How do you deal with this level of grief without falling apart into a million pieces?

Every punch the he would throw, every kick that he would swing, Jack wished his opponent was that drunk driver. He wanted to make that son of a bitch pay for taking the most kind and the most loving person he has ever known...away from him.

And he couldn't. He'd never get that chance. So he was left with this heavy feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. This painful sensation of guilt in his shattered heart trying to convince himself that he would be okay. But the truth of the matter is, he would never be okay.

He would continue to lie to himself until the day he died and say he was fine, but he wasn't.

And now, the only thing he can do to relieve this massive pain is punch until his knuckles bled, scream to the heavens until his throat was torn to shreds, and cry until he physically couldn't do it anymore.

There would be days where he would lock himself in his room and destroy everything in sight. Leaving only the picture of his mother in perfect condition while everything else around was broken like he was.

They say time heals all wounds and Jack has never heard such bullshit in his life.

He's never going to be okay. And to Jack...that's the honest to God truth of the situation.