Early in the morning and the thing she wanted to do was hit a tree until her fist would bleed. The knuckles, streaming the red viscous fluid. But eyes fixated on this spot on the tree. On the place she was supposed to hit repeatedly. Didn’t care if there was pain or permanent damage. No, all that mattered was the inheritance of this skill immediately. Til the tree would bend. Til her bones would break and then…

Some would call her reckless. Abandon the body and leave nothing behind. Because only in nothing can they have anything. They would have nothing left and she would either be strong or no more. There was no in between.

Anger turned to focus. Deliberate and incessant. Passion would burn her alive and she would jump into the flames willingly rather than fight or shout or say anything that contradicted what they told her. No, the contradiction came in the violation of physical limits. There was nothing but incessant pounding and her arm and her fist and this tree, her partner against fear, hatred, and submission.

Still, if she could only cut out the emotional impulse to burst. If she could beat it out of herself, she’d figure out a way to extracate the tendency to cry out. She would take it and be done with it because there was no use for things like that here. There was no use for joy or anything remotely comfortable. So why not remove it? Why not have no worries, cares, distractions that would hold her back from her only purpose. Be better. Be stronger. And then, never again. Never again would anything ever happen. 

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