Fight For A Better Day

Sweat rolls down the back of her neck; it’s an uncomfortable feeling but rewarding as well. If she didn’t make herself sweat exercising then she was doing something wrong. Her ribs still hurt but the bruise had faded from dark purple to an ugly yellow colour. Still it turned out she could only make two reps of ten crunches before her body told her to stop and she’d switched up her routine. Now she was going through a series of push ups, her arms starting to shake as she struggled; arm strength had always been a problem. Saffron blew a strand of hair out of her eyes as she started to lower herself back to the ground. She could do this, she’d done harder things than this, a couple of push ups weren’t going to beat her.

Her arms quivered, her face hovered a couple of inches above the ground, her teeth ground together in concentration and then she pushed up. A whoosh of air escaped her lungs and she rolled over onto her back, grinning wide even as she panted and tried to catch her breath. Her side was still sore and her muscles ached but it felt good. She knew she wasn’t the best, not the fastest, not the strongest of the trainees but she wasn’t going to stop. Maybe she’d never be as good as others but that didn’t matter she just needed to be better than her mother. Besides at the moment with things the way they were she just needed something to focus on.

Lifting up the hem of her shirt, that may have once belonged to her brother, she used it to blot away the dampness on her face. She’s still blind when she hears someone nearby, assuming it’s just another trainee she stays where she is and then there’s a voice in her head that has her stiffening. Saffron doesn’t like that. She rarely uses her own telepathy not liking to invade other people’s thoughts. Taken back by the sudden invasion of her mind it’s a moment before she realises what he’s called her.

Finished wiping her face she almost laughs but can’t seem to make the noise. She sits up, her shirt falling back down as she rolls her shoulders the movement easing her muscles. “Sorry but I think you must have got the wrong girl,” it’s not until she stands up, movements slightly stiff as her body complains, that she actually looks at the stranger. She’s not ready for it, it’s not that she bears a remarkable resemblance to the man in front of her but she knows he’s her father. It’s the eyes, for the first time she sees eyes similar to her own and there’s something, something in the face that’s familiar.

She stops stretching and just stares for a moment, unsure of everything. Why now? Hadn’t enough happened to her? She’s lost her mother the murderer, her brother was off again, Nimueh was gone and Tris and… why was her father suddenly here now? It was suddenly an effort to breathe. Her mother had never spoken of their father’s not Saffron’s or Grayson’s. Of course, Saffy had been very young when her mother was around maybe she’d just forgotten but she didn’t think so. How was she supposed to cope with this now on top of everything else? Finally looking away she went back to stretching it was easier to feign indifference. “What do you want dad?” she mimics his use of talking directly into his mind, the indifference failing as she can’t manage to keep an edge off the ‘dad’.

Stand Up and Fight! Stand Up and See The Sky Turn Bright

photo by Shan Sheehanat flickr.com


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