Fighting Shadows!

The Call for Independence

I haven't spoken to my mother in years. The last time we saw each other was when I left home at the tender age of 18, seeking independence and a chance to prove myself to the world. Since then, our relationship has been strained, marred by the distance and the choices I made. But deep down, I know that if anything were to happen to me, she is still my next of kin, my emergency contact.

As I reflect on this thought, a bitter taste fills my mouth. My stepfather, on the other hand, revels in my absence. The image of his smug face flashes in my mind, fueling my determination to prove him wrong. For as long as I can remember, he has belittled me, constantly reminding me of my perceived weaknesses. According to him, I am unable to defend myself, destined to be alone and unloved.

Lost in my thoughts, I fail to notice the impatient voice behind me. Startled, I turn around to find a rude man glaring at me. "Move up, lady," he snaps, his impatience evident in his tone. A flicker of anger surges within me, and for a moment, I consider retaliating, lashing out at his disrespect. But just as quickly, I remember my lack of self-defence skills, and I reluctantly step aside, clutching my basket tightly.

Returning home, I unpack the new gym clothes I purchased earlier, carefully folding and placing them in a gym bag. The bag symbolizes a fresh start, a commitment to self-improvement. However, I can't shake off the feeling that there are still a few essentials missing. But for now, I must prioritize the upcoming training sessions and focus on my studies.

A sudden realization hits me like a bolt of lightning. "Shit," I mutter as if the expletive will somehow alleviate my mounting anxiety. I have an important test tomorrow, one that demands my attention and dedication. I gather my textbooks, flipping through the pages I have yet to study. But try as I might, I find it impossible to concentrate.

My mind is consumed by thoughts of the gym classes scheduled for tomorrow. The allure of physical exertion and the opportunity to mould my body into a stronger, more formidable form occupy my every waking thought. It's as if a dormant fire within me has been ignited, a fire that burns with a fierce determination to prove my stepfather wrong.

With a heavy sigh, I close my textbooks, accepting the fact that my mind is not ready to absorb academic knowledge tonight. Instead, I allow myself to daydream, envisioning the challenges and triumphs that await me in the gym. The anticipation is palpable, electrifying my senses and fueling my motivation.

I keep checking the clock, the hands ticking away mercilessly. My shift at the hospital ends at 3 PM, and I have to rush to the gym if I want any chance of getting a session with Blake. It's 2:34, and these last few minutes seem to stretch on forever. Can't they just fly by?

As I anxiously wait for the clock to strike 3, a voice interrupts my thoughts. "Emily, can you please help with these patients? We're short-staffed and the nurses can't keep up," Linda, the charge nurse, pleads. I let out a heavy sigh, torn between my commitment to my job and my burning desire to make it to the gym.

Reluctantly, I nod and rush to the first patient's room, trying to provide the best care I can in the limited time I have. The minutes tick away, and with each passing second, my heart races faster. I move from one patient to another, trying to be as efficient as possible. But with each passing minute, my anxiety grows. I really need to get going.

Finally, I find myself standing in front of Linda, desperately hoping she'll understand my predicament. "I'm sorry, Linda," I say, my voice tinged with urgency. "I really need to leave. It's not what you think—I'm not going on a date or anything. I'm actually..."

I stop myself before revealing the truth about where I'm headed. Blake had asked me to keep our training sessions a secret, and I can't risk anyone finding out. I trust Linda, though, and I know she won't say a word. But still, I can't shake the feeling that time is slipping away, and every second counts.