Page 8 of Shadows Within

I open the door and slide the wheeled table in. The steel table scratches against the walls of the machine as I close the door.

My eyes are drawn to her through the small panel of glass, not able to look away as the fire clicks on. I stare at the flame and try not to think about my actions, because I know if I do, they will consume me.This isn’t justice, this is a crime.My jaw tightens.

Heat surrounds me, but I don’t flinch. It’s muscle memory by now: load the body, turn the dial, walk away. But this time I can’t leave.

There’s no grief, just the hollow pain in my chest that’s been there for years. This is the cost of silence, and the price of legacy. I accepted that debt a long time ago.

Minutes turn to hours. I stay until the fire finishes what I started. When there’s nothing left, I finally walk away. I turn off the machine, head up the stairs, and flick off the lights.

Just another day.

Sparring

Scarlett

It’s just after six in the morning and I’ve finally made it to the gym before the busy time. By seven, I know it will be packed.

I love the smell of metal and lemon cleaner. Before everyone gets in and ruins it with the stench of sweat and blood. I pull my wraps on as I climb into the ring. Ricco adjusts the pads on his hands.

“You’re late,” he says without looking at me.

“Oh stop, I’m early.”

He grunts and steps into place. I know he’s not a morning person, even after owning a gym that opens at five for the last twenty years.

“Let’s see what you’ve got. Clock’s ticking Scar.”

I square up and start bouncing on the balls of my feet. My first jab hits his pad—it’s sharp and clean. Ricco shifts and lines up for the next shot.

“Again.”

I move through combinations as he calls them out. Sweat runs down my forehead and a warmth surrounds my muscles. I can’t stop the clutter of thoughts from flooding my head. The decision of what to do after I graduate next year has been weighing on me. My mind clears a little bit more with every hit.

“Is this ballet, kid?” I know he’s pushing me whenever he throws kid in there. “Hit like it matters.”

“It always matters.” I fire back without thinking. He drops his hands for a moment.

“Then show it.” He lifts the pads back into position.

I exhale and wipe my forehead with the back of my hand. We go again. Failure isn’t an option. I strike at Ricco, my fists controlled but quick. Every punch I throw has purpose.

After a few more solid rounds, Ricco steps back.

“That’s better. You’re still in your head, but it’s better,” he says.

“You’re so comforting.” I roll my eyes.

“I’m not your therapist, Scarlett. I’m here to make sure you don’t break.” He grabs my shoulder and squeezes it. I smile at him. He’s gotten me through more hard times than he’ll ever know.

“Get out of here, you’re going to be late for class,” he chuckles.

I glance at the clock over the change room door.Shit. I jump through the ring ropes, head toward my locker, and grab my clothes to get ready for class.

“Same time tomorrow?” I yell over my shoulder at Ricco as I run out of the gym.

“I’ll be here.” He nods his head toward me.

I unlock the car and throw my bag in the back seat. As I slip behind the wheel and drive to school, my phone rings. I lift it to see who’s calling.