0:01, Prologue.
Hit. Hit. Harder. Hit. Hit. Hit.
My lunges ache, forcefully I inhale the air around me, with every heave of my chest the burning grows, hotter, painful. The air around me becomes thick, clinging to me, suffocating. My arms burn, pain sears through them as I force them harder, faster, stronger.
Hit. Hit. Hit. Hit
Sweat collects on my forehead and trickles down my back, hit harder. Hit. Hit. The air becomes thicker, hotter, hard to breath in, I result in short jagged breaths, hit. Hit. Hit. Hit. Hit. My head spins, keep hitting. The air is barely around me anymore, my arms ache with every hit, everything begins to set on fire, my core burning with a hot pain, an ache, an ache I craved. My arms become limp, weak. You're weak. Keep hitting! Pain sears through my body, my arms, my lungs. Breath. Inhale. Exhale. Hit. Hit. Hit. Hit. Harder. Hit. Hit. Stronger, be stronger. Hit. Hit. Hit. Hit. Hit. Keep –
I halt letting the pain subside. The numbness follows, a hollow pain remains, the ache continues in my body. You are weak. Disappointment. I am a disappointment; I allow the air to flow into my burning lungs, allow my breathing to return to it natural pace, my panting slows, gasping, no longer. I am so weak. Stupid, you gave into weakness. A heat of determination drags me back into the familiar need for ache, I push myself harder.
Hit. Hit. Hit. Kick. Hit. Hit. Kick. Hit. Hit. Hit.
--
Be stronger. Hit. Keep pushing, harder. Hit. Hit. Kick. Hit.
My breath shakes, quivering in short attempts to consume the hot sticky air surrounding me. Hungry, hungry for the need to be stronger. Hit. Hit. Kick. Hit. Hit. Hit. The burning in my muscles shakes through my body, my heart racing, pounding in my chest, with each heave to circulate blood it quickens. My knuckles sear with a splitting hotness, raw with pain. Hit. Hit. Hit. Hit. Kick. Hit. Hit. Hit. Kick. Hit. Hit. Hit. Harder. Hit. Kick. Hit. Hit. Hit. Kick. Last. Hit. I let the bag swing forward, full still with force. I pull it into me, my arms wrapping around it, stilling its swinging, I rest my head against the coolness, the hard bag offers relief. After minute, gaining myself I pull away from it and towards my duffel bag. My heart drumming in my ears, my breath slow, the ache does not reside, familiarity of the ache continues.
--
The mirror before me offers a reflection, I study it. Dark brown hair, it reaches my waist. I want to cut it, it reminds me of– I push my eyes downward meeting a troubled gaze, green, dull, sad. My face is angular, odd even. My lips cracked, split from training, dried blood surrounds the wound. I bite down on it lightly recalling the pain. Ashamed, my eyes trail to my knuckles; they're split and traced with blood. I should've worn gloves, like normal people, but that would mean weakness. You are weak. Fury spreads over my body; I push it away storming from the bathrooms.
Pain, pain shoots through my neck, I stumble backwards, tripping, hard against the ground. Crackling numbness spreads from beneath me through my back, a stabbing pain follows. "Shit." I wince, I attempt to conceal my pain with anger, I try and regain my balance, pushing my weight hard against my wrist pushing myself up, a warm embrace snakes around my waist and settles on my lower back guiding me to my feet. Once I am steady the hand leaves, Stupid pitiful. Relying on someone that way. My head throbs. Weak. Anger rages inside of me, rattling against my cage, I push past the figure with a mumbled "sorry." Fury rises inside me, as I race to my car, starting the engine and leaving the gym. Weak.
--
A/N
Just a small insight of a troubled, ill, mind. :)
COte.
