Strings of sleepless nights seemed to be the only thing that ever stayed the same in Ana's life, there was always something that needed to preoccupy her mind other than the thought of rest.
Knowing that no one else in the house was yet to awaken except the old rusty boiler that regularly enjoyed playing out of tune grumbles. Ana threw the covers off her bed to reveal a set of dark blue pyjamas clinging onto her body for warmth. She always had the itch to hit something which benefited everyone as a punching bag diverted that itch, it had no feelings and sometimes it was better that way.
Pulling her pyjama top off over her head, she switched it for a sports bra which displayed the goose bumps from a frosty morning, a thin pair of loose shorts for her bottoms and she jogged downstairs not even a bother to keep quiet. Chucking a slice of bread into the toaster, she grabbed her phone which glowed with one touch. A text covered the screen at seven-thirty which only added to the perception that these people had nothing in their lives but this job.
With the sound of popping toast, Ana placed her phone down on the counter top and grabbed the single piece and a plate instead. Spreading a thin layer of jam across the toast and pouring a quick glass of orange juice, she slowly buried herself into the leather cushioned sofa, letting silence overwhelm the thoughts as her mind drowned in the sorrow. Questioning every mistake she ever made, every death which fell due to the fate of her hands and every life taken as victim by her weapons. Every single one of their faces passed through her head and especially at times when she wished for nothing more than reconciliation within herself.
Once finishing the extremely plain breakfast, the dark-haired girl slumbered into the gym room hoping to knock out all the pointless self-pity which consumed every ounce of her small figure. Not even bothering with the gloves Ana threw a hard punch to the solid bag. Exhaling sharply, she threw another punch followed by another with the other hand, swinging a kick to it after. She had learnt that imagining the bag as a person always added to the satisfaction and encouraged harder jabs. After around ten minutes of punching a lifeless bag it was concluded that it hadn't really helped, it gave neither a sound nor cries of pain. Something which Ana decided was a sort of motivation letting her know she was doing it right.
Shuffling into the corner of the room, she arrived at the most popular gadget amongst the household. Gliding her sweaty hands across the glistening silvers, a smile emerged as Ana's eyes greedily scanned all the shining blades. She scanned them all and picked up the one on the far left, she let her index gently run along the edge before twiddling the point on her thumb.
"Computer, let's start." She called out.
"Starting level one." Spoke back the automated recording voice.
A black figure popped up and instantly launching the knife in her hand straight into the chest of the board. It popped back down as another one jumped up almost simultaneously with the one right beside it. Grabbing two knives in each hand this time, the killer in practise twisted one forward followed quickly by the other, hitting one in the head and the other in the groin area.
She continued. Hitting the targets effortlessly each time as they continued popping up quicker and more frequently at one time.
"Starting, Level four." Spoke out the now irritating women's croak. As exhausting as it was by this stage, the young woman was determined to break her own record. Poised upwards, her eyes locked, trying to guess which figure was about to pop up next. Just as that thought came to mind - the one furthest left sprung up and as if it was an automatic reaction by now, she snatched another knife: launching it straight into its head.
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Evanesce (minor reconstruction)
Teen Fiction. Loan sharks: A moneylender whom charges extremely high rates of interest, typically under illegal conditions. Their goal is to distort you to become this being without empathy, ...
