Gemotions

The metallic tang of blood filled the air, a constant reminder. Ava stared at her hands, the rough calluses offering a false sense of security. She had poured everything into boxing, every waking moment consumed by training.

Her father’s words still echoed, “You’ve got the fire, kid.” Now, the fire had turned to ash. The boxing gym felt like a prison. The smell of sweat and leather, the shouts of the trainers, normally exhilarating, now made her feel ill.

She skipped the usual sparring session and went for a run instead, the relentless pounding of her feet on the pavement failing to soothe the turmoil. The tears streamed down her face, unchecked, unbidden.