It hadn’t been hard to find a heavy bag for her house. They weren’t too expensive, but she did have to hire someone to move it in for her and hang it. But it was worth it.

With wireless ear buds in, hair in a pony tail, sweat running down her face, and her hands taped, she was using it.

Everything Fawkes taught her was being used, proper stance and balance, proper kicks and punches.

While twisting with her torso was still a bit sore, it was getting better and her punches were landing more frequently. The punch was landed with the knuckles of her index and middle finger each time. Ten punches on each side.

But as each punch landed, her mind wandered, and that wasn’t good. Thoughts of how she failed to protect herself flood her mind. The newest failure triggering all the others.

Soon she was taken back to a time when it was her being used as a heavy bag, her face what punches were landed on. Flashes of blood, blackened eyes and broken bones.

And as each memory came flooding back, she felt herself losing control.

The punches were erratic, not landing properly and it was the sudden pain shooting down her arm that snapped her back to reality.

Crying out in pain, she drops to her knees, holding her fingers.

As the tears streamed down her face, she gritted her teeth, not willing to give in. Not again. She was not that weak girl anymore. Never again.

Never. Again.

Flexing the fingers, seeing nothing was broken, she stands, and begins working on kicks. She would not let her past take over. She would learn from it and be stronger.