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As Ryan had done that day, Shannon wanted some solitude too. Her sanctuary was the gym. She was never one for gym buddies, anyway. But Shannon definitely didn’t want company of any sort that day. She’d hardly been able to sleep. She waked up several times during the night. Eventually she gave up trying to sleep and headed for the gym.
She didn’t acknowledge anybody in the changing rooms. She put her headphones on as she got inside the gym. And she went to work on. She put forth some frustration. She warmed up on the treadmill, staring blankly ahead. Short but energetic spells on the rowing machine and bike were followed by some sit-ups using some device invented to make sit-ups more efficient. She borrowed the gloves then she went to work on the punch bag. For once Shannon wasn’t bothered about the correct punching technique or how good her footwork was. She just wanted to hit something over and over again as hard as she could. For a while her anger and frustration even blanked out the pain from her right hand that very much still had the signs of the acid burns. Her last twenty punches on the bag were all with her left hand. Fatigue finally kicked in and Shannon wrapped her arms around the punch bag and held onto it as tears began to gently fall on her cheeks. She held onto it for a minute or so, feeling completely lost then her dominant response of not wanting to appear weak resurfaced. And she let go of the bag. And she wiped away the tears. She took the gloves back to the office. And the young man behind the counter noticed the red scars on her hand, and that it appeared that Shannon had been crying.
“Thanks. Are you okay?” He said as he took the gloves.
“I’m fine.”
Shannon got back on the bike and started to push the pedals. She didn’t set the machine on any program. She didn’t set it for a certain time or certain distance. She didn’t even activate it so it would record duration or amount traveled. She didn’t want to know how far she went or how long she had been going for. She just wanted to pedal until she didn’t feel like pushing the pedals anymore. Everybody else in the gym went about their business. One or two guys noticed the scars on Shannon’s hand and arm and couldn’t help but give them a second glance. But the look on Shannon’s face made it clear to everybody that she was in no mood for any sort of interaction. Fixing her glare on some imaginary far off point, almost as if she was in a trance, seemingly oblivious to the sweat pouring of her. Habitually taking a drink from her water bottle every now and again, as if without any conscious thought.
She had no idea how long she was on that bike for. But there came a time when she didn’t feel like pushing the pedals anymore. In actual fact she’d been on the bike for around an hour and a half. She’d started to get some bemused looks from other gym users but none that she noticed. As she stepped off the bike, her legs felt a strange mix of strength from all the exercise she’d just done and weakness from all the exercise she’d just done. She went back to the changing room and into the shower. She stood motionless under the shower, without a concept of time. Actually she was there for half an hour or so, as if hoping the water would wash the memories away. As she got changed, a woman who often saw Shannon at the gym came into the changing rooms.
“Hey Shannon, how are you doing today? Have you finished already?”
“Sorry Stef, really, I’m not in the mood for pointless chat today”– Shannon said abruptly, surprising Stef, and carried on getting changed.
She went back home and the tiredness hit her. She felt very sleepy and slightly achy. She put on top of her bed covers, still wearing the track suit she wore to and from the gym. She curled herself up and got her head comfy on a pillow. Within a minute of settling on a position on the pillow Shannon fell asleep. She remained asleep for a couple of hours. Then she began to toss and turn. She gently repositioned herself whilst still asleep to start with. Then the movements became more pronounced and sweat poured out of her.
“No!” Shannon screamed as she jumped up into a sitting upright position on the bed and woke herself up simultaneously. It was that dream again, that horrible screeching sound. When she gathered her thoughts she realized that it was a nightmare. And she was in her bed at home. She took a few deep breathes and ran her hands through her hair. She was soaking wet. And her hair was soaking wet from sweat. She got up and walked to the bathroom. She leaned on the sink and looked in the mirror. She was very pale, very sweaty and very fed up of waking up looking very pale and very sweaty.
“This has got to stop”– Shannon said, as she looked her reflection in the eye.
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