Broken

Chest tight, and breathing erratic, Star Skyline didn't notice the tears falling down her cheeks as she swung.

The brisk night air around her felt like winter as it hit the warm sweat on her body. The sword moved desperately towards the dummy, filling the quiet night with a noise lost on her earphone covered ears. Her chest moved up and down at a rapid pace as she pulled the sword back, nimbly moving on her toes as she spun around. Long red hair shined in the moonlight as it fanned out around her, blue eyes narrowed, sparkling with tears.

Hitting the next target, the sword sent vibrations through her sore arms. She panted, sweat falling down her face. But it wasn't enough. It wasn't making the feeling go away like it should. It wasn't giving her control like it should, it wasn't working.

So she kept going. Kept swinging into the night, letting hit after hit fall on the target, feeling the ache in her muscles, in her body, in her wounds.

She refused to be helpless. She refused to be weak. She refused to be the victim again. Refused to lose everyone, to be the reason for anyone else's pain.

Her chest felt tight as she swung, and her lungs begged for air like a victim begs for their life. But, she knew the feeling wasn't from her training.

And that's why she was doing this.

If she could outrun this feeling, outfight this pain, train until she was sure she would never feel so weak again…

Would it still happen?

Would it be enough?

Was she… enough?

As the next swing impacted the dummy, it felt like a firework shot up her arm, lighting her weaker shoulder on fire. The sword dropped from her hands as she fell to her knees, feeling the fresh dew soak into her clothes.

The air felt still around her, her breaths rapidly falling from her lips and mixing in with the night. Hands shaking as she touched the wrappings, her fingers came back stained red.

She clutched her stomach, as if hoping that by doing so, she could hold herself together as she fell apart. Shoulders trembling, she felt the blood trail down her arm like a raindrop on glass.

She didn't realize she was crying until tears fell onto her lap, mixing with the drops of blood from her open dressing. Wiping her face roughly, her fingers reached for the sword's handle, and dragged it to her lap.

Her knuckles were white as she bowed down her head, her long hair protecting her from the world. If only she could hide like this forever. If only she could feel safe like this, just for a little longer.

But she couldn't.

Looking up to the night sky, her hair fell behind her shoulders like a river. She knew what she would see if there was a mirror. She knew the white silk line would stand out against her pale skin, the moonlight reflecting off of it like starlight.

Eyes closing as she traced her fingers over it, she touched it as if it were a ghost. Feather light, the raised skin felt smooth against her fingers, but it did not calm her. It was a reminder. A warning. It was a means to show her how trapped she really was.

He had gotten in so easily. Had taken her in a room with so many people. And had left her with a reminder that he could do it again.

-She groggily opened her eyes as she felt pressure at the crook of her elbow. Her body felt heavy, like when your entire leg falls asleep and your brain forgets how to move it. It was hazy like a dream when she stared into his grinning, blushing face. She realized the man was on top of her, pinning her wrist to the ground with one hand while his other hand held something to her arm. -

-"Tell anyone, and I'll cut them up too!"-

The pain had been searing. The clearest part of her fog filled memory. It was apparent that the blade had been coated in something.

-Would it kill her? Would she die here on her sky blue rug? Without getting to say goodbye?-

-This wasn't the first time the feeling of death graced her doorstep. Nor was it the first time panic dropped weights on her chest, acid in her lungs. But staring into the overjoyed forest eyes above her, brightened by the flush on the sharp cheekbones below them… She couldn't help but feel like her heart was breaking.-

Face hardening, she tied the dressing tightly, sucking in a breath or air as she did. Her legs were unsteady as she stood, but she stood.

Her hands were shaking as she picked up the sword, but she picked it up. And as she took her position, sound blaring in her earphones and in her mind, she kept fighting.

Her hair spun around her in a circle as she spun to the next target, the cold night air brushing against her tears, making them feel like ice against the air. She didn't feel the numbness in her shoulder from the hundreds of arrows she had shot earlier. She didn't feel the exhaustion seeping into her bones. Didn't feel the tears streaking down her face.

Swing, spin, block, spin…

She repeated, and repeated, feeling, but not hearing, the vibrations in her arms as each blow handed on the dummy. With each swing she felt the feeling of helplessness she felt before sting her eyes. She heard the screams, felt her heavy body, felt the pressure in her arm, the slicing of her skin, the strain on her mind, the utter and absolute helplessness... She felt it all.

And she kept going, knowing that if she stopped, the feeling of unease would creep back again. The feeling of violation would return as her fingers brushed the scar. The feeling of death would stand out like the blood staining the white dressing on her shoulder. If she doesn't become strong enough, it'll all happen again.

-"Tell anyone, and I'll cut them up too!"-

As tears mixed with sweat, she kept swinging. Kept fighting. Unaware of the thoughts her earphones were blocking from the man that made her flush red as he watched her from afar.

An indescribable look in his crimson eyes, and heaviness in his explosive heart.