Stepping on the Path

I fell to my knees.

No way this was happening right now.

Blood was already clinging to my clothes, sucking it up from the floor.

From mom. Or what was left of her.

She had been shot twice. One had put a gaping hole into her stomach and the other had knocked off her arm. I crawled up to her lifeless, limp body, and hugged it. I hugged her tightly like I was trying to keep the things that were dear to me from slipping away.

My eyes that had been ever-tearing were now swollen, my throat harsh as I cried out into world that didn't care for shit. It was getting hard to breathe, but I didn't mind it.

I must've stayed there for hours, because when I had gotten up on my knees again the blood on me had dried off. There was no sun to indicate wether it was day or night, everybody had a different schedule.

Only now I could look her into the eyes.

So much pain and emotions were in those dead eyes that it was almost unbearable to keep looking at her.

To see mom in a state like this, it was heartbreaking. I gently closed her eyelids, gave her a kiss on the forehead and got up.

What did I do to deserve this? At that moment I hated everything. I hated myself, mom for dying, Mara for leaving me alone, and this shithole of a world that gave zero fucks about its inhabitants. I slammed the floor, punched the wall until my fists were bleeding, wiped things off the tabletop. I was so fueled by rage that sorrow was none of my concern anymore.

I screamed aloud, saliva being shot out of my mouth. What now?

What now, dear world?

Am I supposed to just go on, like nothing happened? Like the rest of the people do? Shrug it off and be like "oh well", and move on?

Go fuck yourself! Get out of here! Move! Disappear!

I threw the ring against the wall. What good is a ring, anyways? Good luck charm my ass.

But it was Mara's good luck charm.

I cursed at myself. How could I get these kinds of thoughts? Had I completely lost my mind? I quickly got the ring again, put it on my finger, still holding onto it for several seconds.

This was for Mara, and I had to give it back.

I had to give it all back, I couldn't go on like this. I will pay back what they did to mom, Mara and me.

Fuck self pity. I let myself be in this pitiful state.

Fuck being a coward. I will get what I want.

Fuck crying. I will never cry again, that I promise.

And fuck you, whoever's listening to my thoughts, for just being entertained. You are just as bad as the rest.

You choose to watch me suffer for your enjoyment, just so after that you can do some other useless and pitiful shit to then half-ways forget about me again. This will be a bumpy ride. So either you commit to this, or drop it.

I dare you.

From here on, I will forge my own path.

I shall avenge her, whatever it takes, and whoever it takes with it.

Now I knew that there was more to this world. I saw the ship fly high and it disappeared at one point. I knew where. And I knew that I had to get up there if I wanted to get Mara.

But how?

I guess that was a question for later. First I had to take care of mom. I couldn't just let her lie there forever.

Of course I would grieve, but I couldn't do it in peace with so much things to remember the earlier happenings around me. So, after contemplating a lot, I decided to cremate her.

There was a crematorium around here, I guess the people living here had at least a spec of respect for the dead. But how would I get her there?

I knew how, and I dreaded it. My neighbors.

The next half an hour I spent asking many neighbors for help, but most replied with "piss off" or "not my problem". Only when I had reached the 6th floor a halfway decent middle aged couple decided to help. I guess they felt pity. Maybe helping me would make them feel better about themselves.

6 hours later I was back home again. I had the ashes of mom in a bag, and after thanking the helpful neighbors, I went back to our- no. My room.

I would have many things to do the following days, or months, but right now I had to sleep.

And so I did.

The next day I woke up hungry. I had lost the groceries in all of yesterday's commotion, so breakfast was limited, and followed by cleaning up the blood all over the floor. While cleaning I realized that the there were three holes in the wall were the weapon had fired at. Apparently mom had managed to dodge one shot, somehow.

Yesterday I had talked big about how I would get revenge, grow stronger, bla bla. Only now I realized that I had no plan what to do. I thought hard, and long, went through my memories to find something worth while.

Lots of memories of Mom and Mara flashed by me, making me feel sad, grievous.

But I channelled it, channelled it into motivation.

And then I knew; I saw it before me. Mom had, when I was a bit younger, been doing some exercises. But she had stopped about 3 years ago. She didn't think it was necessary anymore, but now it was necessary for me. And so I began.

She had said it kept her fit and strong, and that's what I wanted. Her daily exercises consisted of firstly running up and down the staircase for about 30 minutes, for endurance, and then she had returned panting really hard, barely walking. After a rest of a few minutes and some water she began her muscle building exercises. They consisted of what she called sit ups, push ups, squats, lunges, planking and planking on the side with raising the leg, an exercise where she was on her stomach and arched her back so her hands and feet were off the ground, a type of push up when doing a handstand against a wall, and pull ups on the edge of our window.

She did all of those until she couldn't, and then some more, switched after 30 seconds of rest, and repeated it all 3 times.

And then I got to work.

It was much harder than I thought, I felt that immediately. First off, although I have walked the stairs very often and the stories don't give me a problem there, running was entirely different. Down was alright, but up I only managed 4 floors up, then walking for a bit. Then I remembered that mom often had different paces while doing it with different conditions. So, for the next few staircases I slowed down a bit, and I could run a bit longer. Eventually I would get more endurance, I was sure.

I did so for about 20 minutes before I was completely exhausted, and took a break. Mom had always said that she would need at least half an hour for it to be really effective. I guess I had to adjust to that next time.

Secondly, my posture and execution of the exercises were all wrong. I guess that having them done right took a few tries, so before and exercise I would first get the posture right, copying what was in my memories. Then I would memorize how my body felt so I could start off the exercise right from the beginning next time.

Thirdly, I barely managed to get any repetitions. 10 was the highest repetition numeral I could achieve, and only with some exercises. With each round the numbers sank. It was quite depressing, really.

But I knew this was just the start, and I could build up on that after.

Lastly I did something mom had called stretching, and once again realized how much work I had in front of me.

In the end, I had to admit that it felt good. I built off some of my pent up emotions, and my mind felt like it had a little bit more head space. Frustration was still there, but it appeared a bit less aggressive. I sat down on the floor, still panting.

Now I could brainstorm a bit.

I knew that to find out why Mara was taken I would need to go up, beyond this shithole, no use in trying to figure it out.

To get up there, in that hole where those bastards had flown to, I'd need to climb up at least 800 meters. I knew that the stairs inside of the houses would reach to one point, but there was no way they would still be intact the whole 200 or so floors. At one point I would need to climb up in a different way, and that meant that I had to be fit for it. There would most certainly also be dangerous situations where the materials wouldn't be in good condition anymore and might break more easily. That meant that I had to prepare for many different situations, and I would not succeed without a solid plan and a few plan B's and C's.

Next was an even harder task. I would need to learn how take care of myself, like learning to defend myself, and fight back. After all, I had no idea what would await me once I made it up there, and I couldn't get Mara back with asking nicely. That much was clear.

But how would I learn to fight back? Mom always said that being good at something meant that one had lots of experience, in all contexts, even hers.

As much as I honestly dreaded it, I would need to get into fights. It was already clear that I would get my ass beaten in the future.

So who would I get into fights with?

I guess it was time to bully some people back.

Alright, I had to admit that I was making it sound easy, but I had to approach it with baby steps.

After a very sad lunch, regarding the lack of ingredients and the fact that my feels had hit me again in that period, I set out to go buy some more food. Mom had kept a stash of money for hard times, and after counting it through I guessed it would be enough for at least 6 months, which surprised me.

Well, I guess that there was only one mouth left to feed.

I took enough money to buy things for three meals, just so that tomorrow I would have to go to the market again, on purpose. And so I left.

On the way I got nervous. I didn't know what to do when shit hit the fan, or how to proceed to get better. If I ran into them and straight up punched one of them, then they would probably beat me up even worse after that.

So I had be defensive. Maybe get accustomed to read their movements, even if it took time. Hopefully that could give me an edge later, if I achieved it.

The feeling that I had when I approached that area always used to be the same, but now it was different. I had a goal, a goal I had to reach.

I reached the area, and walked around patiently. I acted like I was looking for something, because if I just there waiting they would've noticed something was off.

After about half an hour the four familiar faces finally appeared.

"Shit." I said, and acted like I was trying to run away, only for them to catch up.

"Well look who we have here!" One of them said, a sodomitic smile on his face. His favorite part of the day was finally here, and for his friends too.

But it didn't bother me. I tried looking nervous and scared, but I was really just observing them. They were closing in on me, and I didn't know what to look for.

I put my hands in front of me, open, like I was signaling them to stay away.

"Please, leave me alone!" I said. And they kept coming, like they always did. Now they were surrounding me.

"Fuck," I said, "please take it easy at least."

"As if" the tallest one said with a cruel smile on his face. His eyes were the meanest of all I had ever seen, and I was pretty sure that he was their leader.

I gulped. I was honestly still feeling nervous and pretty uncomfortable a bit, that feeling wouldn't go away so easily. But I had to get rid of it, at one point.

And then a fist hit me in the face. I hadn't seen it coming what so ever, and now I was even more sure this was going to be very hard. The pain wasn't really bad, as I was used to it, but I had lost my balance and I was blinded for a second. In that time I felt a punch land in my stomach, making me tense up and lean forward. Right after the punch I tensed my abs, and the second punch in the stomach that followed hurt less.

I would remember that. It appears that muscles shield the internal organs. Reacting to that realization I tensed up all my muscles.

I snapped back into focus, and looked around. Two were on my sides, closer to me. It must've been them who hit me in the stomach. The tall guy stood in front of me, but further away.

That meant that the fourth had to be behind me, out of my sight. Considering that the three in front of me stood still I turned around just to get a kick hit my side while I was turning to the one behind me who delivered it. I fell on my right knee but got up right after.

"What's up with you today? Well, I guess this is more fun" the tall guy said, and I heard him step up behind me. I stepped away from him, making him miss a punch to my head, more through luck than anything else.

"Oh?" He said, and went for another punch.

This time I saw it. His right arm moved back, his hand formed a fist as his shoulder moved back a few centimeters. I threw my hands in front of my face just fast enough that his fist hit my underarms, but the weight from his punch still slammed my arms against my face, knocking my head back. Blood was now running out of my nose, I could taste the iron flavor in my mouth.

But I had blocked it, and this made me more confident, by however small the percentage.

Yet the force made me lose balance once more and I stumbled back, coming into the grasp of one of them who had punched me in the stomach.

He held my arms tightly behind my back so that I couldn't escape, and they had a clear shot on my entire body.

Just a few seconds later I was being beaten up by a flurry of fists and kicks, none which I could fend off. I kept all my muscles tensed to minimize the damage, but it was still there and getting worse. I clenched my teeth as my defense was lowering more and more because my muscles were now losing their strength.

Either I made a breakthrough now or I would end up just as bad as any other day.

I kept my eyes locked on their movements, trying to see a way to predict them, but there was too much happening at once.

Then I tried focusing on only one of them, the one to the left. He only used his fists, never his legs. I tried looking at his arms and shoulders, the way his body moved before every punch that he delivered, what happened in his eyes, what kind of signal he would unconsciously give before an attack.

With every punch he gave out I came closer to having analyzed his movements, even if it was only in this situation. I knew that once I had found a starting point I could build up upon that foundation.

Watching him I also managed to remember some different methods to punch, be it punch in a straight line, twice with the same hand, from below or from the side. Each of them had their own little preparation periods i.e. pulling back the shoulder and twisting the torso to maximize velocity of a punch or dipping the shoulder a bit for an uppercut.

Sometimes he also switched the front leg to give more power to his other arm-

And now I knew how to get out of this mess.

The kid I had been watching was visibly getting tired with his for now dominating left arm, meaning he would switch side and stance soon. I noticed that when switching he had lowered his attention to me a bit the last few times, and that was my window of opportunity.

The moment he bent his knees to hop to the other stance I lifted my left leg up and kicked his left knee that was on its way forward, giving me momentum to launch my head back onto the nose of the guy holding me.

And now I was free.