The sensation of that initial sting erupts the senses into volcanic awareness. Immediately after the penetrating pain slams hard until the deep contact is felt completely. Punch after punch is felt this way. First that sharp ripping, then that deep satisfying slam. The rhythm repeated over and over. Each dodge then blow seemed to be in slow motion. Although it was far from the case she tried to focus as she processed each and every pain thoroughly.
Her trainer was always surprised after every session. So often he thought he saw her go into a meditative state, something he’d never seen before. Having trained many men and a handful of women it was rare to see something new in his gym.
One time he tried to ask her if she knew she slipped into another world during hard training. She firmly dismissed the conversation and moved it right back to training and her next match. He was paid to do a job and he did it. It was always hard to see these beautiful woman leave with swollen and bruised eyes and jaws. Most all of the woman who joined his gym were unusually beautiful. He struggled to understand why it was they wanted to box when most of them could be models.
After a session at the gym she would go home ice her wounds and bruises. A nice hot shower was always in order, and then she would occasionally order something in so she could use the rest of the night to relax.
She’d been to counseling. It didn’t work, it ended up just being more of the same pain she was already coping with. Even her closest friends didn’t know the story. She was tired of sharing it. Being a germ in a petri-dish got old. Study after study, each time having to relive the same pain. In the long run she realized the study ended up being more about how long a girl her age could continue under so much stress, rather than helping her heal from the pain and trauma. They just added more. She told her story so many times that she nearly had it down to a dry speech.