𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐀 | 𝐋. 𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐍

𝐈.𝐈𝐕

❝𝑶𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒎𝒖𝒍𝒕𝒊𝒑𝒍𝒚 𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒊𝒛𝒆𝒅.❞
— 𝐒𝐔𝐍 𝐓𝐙𝐔

꧁꧂

THUD.

Valen grunted upon striking, her heel colliding against the dummy's clavicle. It rocked back and forth, but so weakly that it'd regained its equilibrium in only seconds.

Too soon for Valen's liking.

Unsatisfied, she repeated the motion, this time around achieving what she wanted—the dummy swayed like it'd been blasted by a gust of wind, coming close to falling over. Then everything started swaying—the ceiling, the sunlight, the dummy—and Valen found herself staggering, struggling to stay upright.

Withdrawal.

After what seemed like an eternity of stumbling and deep breaths, her surroundings stabilized, and she could stand sturdily again. It wasn't the first time it'd happened—in fact, it was the third time since she'd entered the gymnasium that she had to stop to pull herself together.

The withdrawal was kicking in now, and Valen was doing everything she could to conceal her symptoms, which meant hurling in the woods, showing up to roll-call on less than seven hours of sleep, and positioning her blanket in a certain way so her colleagues couldn't see the cloth tied around her mouth. Valen stared at her trembling hand, her fingers spasming as if they had their own will. Was she being too hard on herself, exercising herself to the bone when she needed to be resting?

Perhaps—regardless, she needed to keep working.

Though she'd already honed her kicking for the day, Valen decided a little more practice wouldn't hurt. As she eased back into the swing of things, someone else entered the gymnasium, and Valen sensed her irritation climb. One of the main reasons she trained on her own time was because of the seclusion: no mundane side conversations, crude jokes, or barking coming from the higher-ups—only the thudding of her kicks and punches, her lungs expanding and contracting, the burning in her muscles, the energy pulsing in her veins. It created a unique experience that beguiled her to the gymnasium day after day.

She tuned out the approaching footsteps as she pummelled her heel in the dummy's windpipe. Valen hoped that they—how many of them she'd yet to figure—had entered the building for the same reason as her, but judging by what she heard, only a single person had walked in. So, no raucous teenaged boys who'd toy with the dummies, nor the lovey-dovey couple looking to get some action in the equipment closet.

"Easy there. Are you trying to destroy it?"

Valen straightened, her hands dropping to her sides. She recognized that voice.