I punched the bag so hard that the old leather ripped.
I was going to have to avoid her at all costs.
I was going to have to be mean to her.
I charged the bag with a muted cry, teeth scraping against the rough fabric.
I was going to have to be cruel to her.
I hugged the bag close as my fists railed against it on either side, faster, harder, faster, harder.
She couldn’t see me as the answer.
When my muscles were shaking and I could no longer punch with any strength, I clawed at the bag like an animal.
She couldn’t see in me any kindness.
Soon I was clawing at the bag just to remain upright. My feet were scuffling on the dusty concrete floor and I slipped. My knees hit hard. The jolt made the old wound in my thigh flare up with a searing hot pain. As if I needed a fucking reminder.
She couldn’t be with me.
I rested my slick forehead against the punching bag and tried to breathe evenly. I had to get my head straight if I was going to be able to do this. If I was going to be able to resist.
Aurnia couldn’t be with me.
I also knew that I couldn’t be without her.