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Ringing.
Her ears were ringing, a sharp, relentless sound that drowned out the cheers of the crowd and the thundering of her heart. Her head throbbed, every pulse of pain a cruel reminder of her reality. She could feel the metallic tang of blood on her tongue, but even that seemed distant, muted by the storm raging in her mind. The world around her blurred—faces twisted in anger, mouths moving in shouts she couldn't decipher. Their voices clashed like a storm, but she barely heard them.
She wasn't doing her best today.
Not today. Not any day anymore.
The arena lights were blinding, harsh against her skin. Every time she swung her fists, every time she dodged a blow, she saw them—Jinx. Y/n. Their faces flashed in the corners of her vision, their laughter ringing in her ears like ghosts haunting her. She knew they weren't real. They couldn't be real.
But oh, how desperately she wanted them to be.
It was cruel, how her own mind betrayed her. She saw Jinx's manic grin, her wild eyes full of that spark Violet had always loved—and feared. She saw y/n's calm, steady presence, her hands always outstretched, ready to catch her when she fell. But they weren't here. They hadn't been here in a long time. She was alone.
Her knees wobbled, threatening to buckle under her weight, but she forced herself to stay upright. The crowd's anger was a tidal wave, crashing over her, drowning her. They shouted insults, curses, mocking her for every missed punch, every failed move. She couldn't blame them. She wasn't the fighter they'd come to see anymore.
She was someone else now.
Someone less.
The arena spun around her, and she clenched her fists tighter, her knuckles raw and bleeding. She swung again, and missed. The crowd erupted in laughter. She swung again, and this time her opponent caught her arm mid-strike, twisting it with brutal efficiency. Pain shot through her body, but she barely felt it.
She was too numb.
Her mind wasn't in the arena. It was stuck on that fight with Loris, the one that had torn her apart. He'd left her behind, storming off after the shouting match that had erupted between them. She had said things she didn't mean, things she couldn't take back. It wasn't his fault, and deep down, she knew it.
It was hers.
She had driven him away, just like she drove everyone away. Her anger consumed her more with every passing day. It festered like an open wound, poisoning everything it touched. She couldn't remember the last time she'd smiled, the last time she'd let herself feel anything but rage or despair.
Her drinking had spiraled out of control. Every night, the bottles piled up, and her memories blurred into hazy fragments. She didn't know where she fell asleep anymore, or when. Some nights she woke up on the floor, the smell of liquor still clinging to her clothes. Other nights, she didn't wake up until the sun was already high, her head splitting and her body aching.
