Grit

Part Four

The two most important lessons I leared were : Never give up and Never leave a brother behind. Which stuck with me for life.
After I found my brother we requested to room to gether. We became closer then we ever had been before, enduring the intense combat training and screaming generals. Not only did he help me whith my classes but he was always there for me when I would get into fights and hostle conversations with other students, which ended up being a lot. By the end of my second year I was ranked the best shot and third place in combat training in my grade. By the time I was in seventh grade I could hit a dime at three hundred meters. Of course that pissed of a lot of the other kids who ended up kicking my ass, more then a few times. The commanders could care less, said it makes us tough, which basicaly left me to fend for myself against a group. But my brother was always there; he was big and would easly take care of things, until he got moved to the highschool section of the base. But we still saw each other every now and then.
I got along fairly well with people except for a group of guys that always wanted to fight me. Finally one pushed me into the wall and without thinking, turned around and threw a right hook into his jaw, knocking him on his ass. But I payed the price for that. After training I went to the locker rooms to take a shower and ran into the group. Two of them grabbed me as the other came at me with a pocket knife. I jumped and drove a front kick onto his face with the heal of my right leg. The momentum helped me flip one of the guys holding me after I elbowed the other in the face. The other two charged me, puting me up to the wall and pounding me to a pulp.

I woke up in a pudle of blood on the white bathroom tile. My ribs hurt so bad I could barely move. Pushing my self up to a sitting position I leaned against the cold tile wall. It felt good on my swollen cheeks. After resting a good deal. I forced my self to my feet and walked to the sinks. My eye was swollen the size of a base ball and my cheeks bled from scratches and knife slashes. The cuts weren't very deep though but they still bled like crazy.
I splashed some cold water on my face and stripped down to my underwear. My ribs where black and blue and I had been stabbed multiple times. I groaned a little and then took an ice cold shower, after throwing my bloody clothes into the laundry bin. When I had put on clean clothes from my locker I limped down the hall to the "urgent care" which was located on every floor of the boarding section. It was near midnight and the whole dorms were asleep. The nurse patched me up, told me I had several fractured ribs and sent me to bed. The instructors could care less if my ribs where broken and made me do every thing the other kids did. I still ran and did pushups, pull ups and every other exercise we did reguraly, learning to suck up the intense pain. Pushups hurt so bad I wanted to cry and scream. But I didn't. I bit my lip and pretended I didn't feel pain, when inside I wanted to die it hurt so bad.
I guess that's what taught me how 'mind over body' was my strength.