ALL SHE CAN TASTE IS THE BITTER COPPER FLAVOR OF BLOOD. it churns her stomach because she knows, even before the trainer speaks to her, that it isn't good. now that the adrenaline has worn off she can feel the pain radiating in her head with every beat of her heart. it's like someone's setting off explosives in her skull. then the words cement her fears: concussion. fracture. medical clearance. in a beat all the FIGHT is sucked from her and her fingers grip the crisp white leather of the women's title belt even tighter because it feels like it's already slipping away. but she nods as he speaks like an idiot bobble-head because she can't bring herself to do anything else. afraid that if she opens her mouth she'll scream. then he's gone. she's left in the silent trainer's office, sat on that table, staring at her boots and her blood stained t-shirt with her hand gripping an ice pack so hard her knuckles are snow white. tears prick the back of her eyes and she can't tell whether they're tears of pain or frustration but they STING so fierce that her eyes are red-rimmed when the door opens again and he rushes in. " i'm fine... " she gets out, her voice robotic and tense and so far from fine she doesn't know why she bothered saying it. she tries it again but the words get lodged in her throat and she bites her lip to keep back that scream. the ice pack flies out of her hand and hits the wall with a loud BANG. she's not fine.
@dethrcnes / take my love !
