Obliques

The training center is packed today. I decide to stay at my familiar station with the red punching bag. I slip my hands into the gloves and stretch my knuckles. I warm up my muscles. My mind runs on my anger. I try to suppress the memories of my nails.

Hera and her girls walk in. Instantly, she intimidates me with her glare, while the girls behind her snicker. They walk to the far side of the gym, thankfully leaving me alone. I try to ignore her and direct my eyes at the punching bag. I give it a few hits before I let my arms fall.

It starts with the tip of my toes up to my knees. Warmth rises inside me. Then the bottom of my stomach starts warming up. My chest tingles and my face heats up. I frown at the feeling. This isn’t normal. I was enjoying the air conditioning of the gym just a second ago. I have to part my lips to breathe. What is this? A panic attack? I’m not panicking, though. I feel calm, just hot. The heat surges through my whole body. My throat turns dry. Sweat seeps out of my palms. Then my collarbone. The fabric of my clothes clamp on my moist skin. I look around at everyone training. They seem fine. They don’t look as though a heat wave came through.

I start panting, like I ran a mile. Aggravated, I try to tie my hair over my head.

Suddenly, a pair of hands steadies on my waist, making me freeze. I quickly smack my forearm in back of me, twisting away. Kier stands behind me, unmoved by my blow.

“Stand straight,” he orders, taking my waist back in his grasp.

He faces me towards the punching bag. My hands push away his.

“Alright,” I hiss.

He simply grabs me again, steadying me. I clench my teeth together, looking sharply back at him. Then I realize how close he stands. Looking up, the tip of my nose nearly clashes with his chin. My pulse bangs against my wrists.

“Hit it now,” he says, motioning his gaze to my target.

I dart my eyes around us, feeling a few stares. Trying to get out of this as quick as possible, I do as Kier tells me and punch the bag a few times. After a few strikes, it slightly wobbles on its chain.

I spin around and look up at Kier. He finally lets me free.

“See, I did it,” I say, annoyed to the core.

He stares down at me. A few stray curls are tucked behind his ears. His deep green globes are boring right into me.

“Then perhaps we should move on to combat,” he suggests assertively.

I raise my upper lip into a grimace, “What? No.”

“We’re not fighting against punching bags, soldier,” he says, his voice cold.

He walks over to the combat mats, which forces me to follow. I drag my feet like a spiteful child. He raises his fists, ready to fight me. I look side to side. I try my best to get out of this situation.

“You can’t hit me,” I say, “I’m a girl.”

“The battlefield isn’t sexist, soldier.”

I press my lips together.

“You sure have a snazzy response for everything, don’t you soldier?” I imitate him.

Suddenly, he swiftly sweeps his leg under me, making me fall to the hard cold mat.

Though my body aches, the mat appeases my burning skin. When I look up, Kier folds his arms.

“If I were the enemy, you’d be dead.”

His stare is like a spear, and I’d do anything to get out of it.

A voice springs up from the outer region, “And you would have to live with that for the rest of your life.”

We both look to the right and see Werner come in, bound to his wheelchair. He frowns at Kier. Looking between the two, I huddle up to my feet. Kier loosens his arms and places them behind him, standing taller.

“I’m training an amateur, sir,” Kier tells his father.

“And has she learned?” Werner challenges.

Kier glances my way, “Like I said, she’s an amateur.”

“And I asked has she learned?” Werner presses on.

They’re like the same person. There is a tense pause in the air. I can feel my body stiffen. There’s a faint headache in the back of my head.

“She learned that she’ll never survive,” Kier says.

Werner nods, accepting the response manually. He wheels in closer to Kier. A shiver falls on my back.

With a low voice, Werner replies, “So if she doesn’t survive the battle… you would have to live with that for the rest of your life.”

Werner reels away, leaving animosity anew over Kier.

I don’t understand why Werner would put so much pressure on Kier for my sake. I should then stop making it so hard for him…

My eyes shift back to him. He hasn’t moved a muscle. He watches his father disappear through the winding doors before breathing again. I sigh. The warmth drains itself out of me. The tips of my fingers are frozen. I don’t know what to do.

Though, the words he told me when he watched me first punch the bag come in the foreground of my memory. He said that I was a quick learner, because I knew. I knew I wouldn’t survive here. That’s what he meant.

Even though he despises me so much, he still aims to fulfill Werner’s demand. He seems to despise Werner, too. So why’s he working so hard for us?

“Sorry if I’ve been giving you a hard time,” I mutter.

“Who said you were giving me a hard time?” he counters.

“It’s just… I didn’t know—”

He glares at me, threateningly walks us to me, “Didn’t know what? That you’re supposed to save us all? Don’t worry, that old man is delusional.”

I take a step back, “Just forget about this whole thing. I don’t want to do it anyways.”

“I think it will be easier on everyone, if you just go back to wherever it is you came from,” he words.

He walks off, after colliding into my shoulder. I’m stuck like a statue.