WHO: Charlie W. and Bea. WHAT: Sleeplessness and a late-night (or early-morning) workout. WHERE: The main courtyard of Sing Sing. WHEN: February 6th, 2020, in the wee hours of the morning. RATING: TBD, likely lowish.
She hated nights like this.
Maybe it was easier to say that she hated nights, when people were sleeping and she couldn't distract herself as easily with work or conversation. Booze was always an option, but the passing out was worse. It made her sleep longer. Longer sleep meant longer dreams, and longer dreams meant more nightmares where she faced her own failures, over and over.
Granted, that wasn't much different than being awake. It was a little more surreal in dreams, but it still felt like every time she closed her eyes, she saw the blood, heard the screaming, felt the ache of her bones and the burn of her muscles as she tried with everything she had to get there in time, tried to save the things that mattered.
But everything she had wasn't enough. And that crushing guilt that weighed on her shoulders was the same regardless of whether she was awake or asleep.
So, after jolting awake in a cold sweat after an hour or so of sleeping, she headed down to the gym. The gym was where she could channel her self-loathing into physical rage. One of the doctors down in the clinic who'd examined her knee had told her she had to work on the muscle strength, and that, in time, she'd be able to walk without the cane again.
That meant the leg press. Up and down, over and over, forcing her knee to bend and straighten against the weight, gritting her teeth against the pain. She did it until she was breathless, until the ache forced her to get up and hobble over to a nearby bench, grabbing her bottle of water and taking a long swig.
A minute of rest, she told herself. Just a minute, and then she'd get back to it.