Fighting Shadows!

A Fight for Justice

I stood there, seething with anger and disbelief at the audacity of the monster before me. His words echoed in my ears, leaving a sickening taste in my mouth. "Wow, wow. I would never beat a woman like that," he had said, his grin plastered across his face as if he had just cracked a clever joke.

My fists clenched involuntarily, itching to strike him and wipe that smug expression off his face. But before I could react, a strong arm wrapped around mine, pulling me back. I turned to see Blake, holding me firmly.

"What are you doing?" he asked, concern etched on his face.

I took a deep breath, struggling to contain my rage. "I can't just stand here and let him get away with this," I replied, my voice trembling with anger.

The monster sneered, his eyes filled with arrogance. "I told her to stay away from the gangsters. She brought this upon herself," he said, his words dripping with contempt.

My blood boiled at his callousness. "If it wasn't you, then why didn't you protect her? Why is she lying there, beaten almost to death?" I screamed, my voice reverberating through the hospital corridors. The eyes of the other patients bored into me, their gaze a mix of curiosity and judgment.

Linda, appeared beside us, her expression a mixture of disappointment and disapproval. "Blake, do you mind taking her out of here?" she said, her voice tinged with frustration.

I knew I had crossed a line, acting unprofessionally in a place where composure was expected. But at that moment, all I could think about was the haunting memories of my own past. The vivid image of me lying on a cold, hard floor, my stepfather's sadistic grin etched into my mind, while my mother, who was supposed to protect me, stood by, powerless.

As Blake and I left the hospital, the weight of my stepfather's voice lingered in my ears, haunting me like a relentless ghost. The memories of his vile words echoed in my mind, a constant reminder of the pain and fear I had endured under his roof.

"*Call off the blues, you bitch. Do you want them to put me in jail?*" His voice would reverberate through the narrow hallways of our home, piercing the silence and suffocating any sense of peace or security I desperately craved. I was paralyzed, unable to kick or scream, just like my mother, who was supposed to be there for me but had been rendered powerless by fear.

We arrived at the gym, the sprawling building standing tall and sturdy, a sanctuary for my tormented soul.

As soon as we parked, I leapt out of the car and darted towards the entrance of the gym. The familiar sight of the punching bags strewn across the floor greeted me, like old friends waiting to absorb the anger and frustration that consumed me. Without hesitation, I slipped on my hand gloves, a shield between my knuckles and the demons that plagued my mind.

I approached one of the bags, my heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and anxiety. Blake, ever watchful, stood at a distance, observing my every move with a keen eye. He knew the pain that resided within me, the silent screams that I unleashed upon these inanimate targets. There was no need for words between us; our unspoken understanding provided solace in a world where words couldn't mend the wounds.

With every punch and kick, I unleashed the fury that had been building within me. The physical pain I inflicted upon the bags was a mere reflection of the emotional anguish that had consumed me for far too long. Yet, deep down, I knew that I was only hurting myself in the process, perpetuating a cycle of self-destruction that seemed impossible to break.

Suddenly, I felt Blake's hands on my hips, his presence behind me. Startled, I paused for a moment, unsure of what to do or how to react. But his touch was different, gentle yet firm as if he understood the inner turmoil that ravaged my soul.