Left hook. Right hook. Kick. Kick. Left hook right hook kick kick. Lefthookrighthookkickkick. Faster and faster she went, taking out her frustrations on the punching bag. Autumn could feel her muscles tensing up, locking up past what was healthy. Point blank, she didn’t give a s**t. She had potions at home, salves to ease the pain, potions to made her sleep. Today she was going to push herself to the brink of exhaustion, and stop letting her mind get the best of her.

The talk with Lucas had ******** her up. Badly. She had spent the rest of the day in a haze. What if she WAS on the wrong side? What if none of this was worth it? Autumn had talked pretty about life outside a cage, but… was it really worth it, at the end of the day? For all her big speeches and talks, was she really okay with dying?

She had friends now. Real friends, flesh and blood, who actually came over to spend time with her. But there was still that stupid, stupid nagging voice in her head—

Autumn, boys don’t want smart girls. Just find a rich man and live a good life.

Autumn, stop talking back. You’ll never find a man that way.

Autumn, why can’t you just be a teacher?! Don’t you realize—“

She gave a straight jab, right into the bag, and pain surged up her arm. The good ache, like she’d really been able to let loose on someone. Autumn hadn’t found an actual sparring partner in Ashdown, not somebody she could just get in the ring and knock the s**t out of. She’d debated asking the Chief, but she had the sneaking suspicion he wouldn’t be too keen on the idea of beating the s**t out of her until she could barely stand, then fighting some more. He’d look down, disappointed-

“—all you ever do is cause trouble.”

There was a guttural scream in the back of her throat, and thank ******** she was alone in the gym. Autumn sagged physically, leaning against the punching bag, and cried. Big, ugly tears, just rolling down her face.

Maybe her parents were right. Maybe all she did was ******** things up. Her first meeting with Lucas had been great, and god, it was a guy not involved in this s**t. A guy who was nice, and handsome, and strong. And she’d just ******** it up, again, being herself.

“God DAMN IT,” she snarled, hitting the bag again. And again, and again, for good measure. Autumn wasn’t sure, in retrospect, how long she had been there. But her muscles finally gave out, and despite her anger, despite her frustration, she couldn’t punch anymore.

So she went home.

And it was empty. For all the friends she’d made, all the phone numbers traded… it was still just her and Rosalinde. Nobody to come home to, nobody to say they missed her. No warm arms.

She bit her lip to keep from crying harder, and went to the fridge.

The best part of having a cat now, at least, was someone would eat her body if she died alone. She could just rot here, not have to go back to her parents crying and miserable. ******** them, showed them right for not appreciating her.

Caught up in her own misery, Autumn did not hear the door open.