Now I could really reflect on Whitey. When did I start becoming less of a Nico? More of a nameless, faceless color that everyone saw. On the outside I was Whitey, but what about on the inside? Was I still him there?

All this shit passed my head in around two seconds. Insignificant towards my current task that was happening right now. Training. Training to get a chance to obliterate a slimy false king with no power other than perversion. A ghost.

Step, step, dodge, step, dodge, dodge, step, dodge. There was a pattern, but that was perfect because everyone fought in patterns. At least at first they did, but you have to start somewhere.

Dodge, step, punch, step, punch, step, dodge, step. I circled the punching bag once, twice. Always looking for an invisible open spot from an item that couldn't fight back. 

Grip, knee, knee, slam, bam, punch, dodge. The more and more that bag moved the angrier I got. I didn't know why. Why I wasn't able to fight like this.

Punisher was so soon, yet so far away. I could never manage to make up the distance between us with just this short timeframe, yet it felt like the months were streching into years.

"Hey kid, it's my turn." 

I turned around to see some lady. That was really all the description she needed. Lady. Sighing, I spun around and left, tightening the loose bandages on the way.

I could do situps, but not pushups. Or I could look for something to do. But I didn't want to fuck.

What now?

Normally I would have run to Saanvi. Somewhere along the way she had learnt how to stave off boredom. When? I don't know. Fuck, I didn't know why. Why did people do anything anyways?

God everything wasn't correct. Nothing was wrong? It was in my palms, my life, but they were shaking. My palms. My hands were shaking and everything was falling apart. It was like I was drowning again.

And he was there everytime. He'd grab my shaking hands and rip them apart, rip those god forsaken things right off my arm and hold them to his face as I bled to death on the floor. As I drowned again and again right at his feet. 

They were not the same, but they were. They both loved me, but didn't. 

They loved to hurt me.

I threw up. What was there to throw up? Nothing. I hadn't eaten yet. It was just my body pushing anything out. Maybe I could throw up my heart. Watch it beating right in front of me. We'd both let go together. Just me and myself. 

And then I woke up. I wasn't anywhere different. I was in a crowded hallway, there was still bile on the floor. I was just awake. Everything inside, everything fine.

I got up. I kept walking. I was fine. There would be a fight soon. When I healed. In a month.

Was I ready? No.

"Students, classes start at exactly 5:30 pm. Do not be late or risk disciplinary instruction for the rest of the day."

Oh fuck. Classes. I'd been here three weeks now. The cafeteria was gone, at least for now. I was a normal kid. 

I had 30 minutes to fuck around. Fuck around with nobody, but fuck around. Perhaps I could sneak into the infirmary. Slit Thrasher's throat with a cheap beer bottle. Punch Ryland ... or find the two. I was bored, they were probably bored.

I ran to my room. If there was nothing to do, I could at least get one of them to spar with me.

It almost felt like there weren't two more weeks until I fought Punisher.