Who: Derek and Allison When: Week 11, Very late Sunday night Where: Hale Estate Why: Derek'll probably need a new punching bag. Warnings: Probably cursing.
The second Allison left the kitchen, sleep was all but forgotten. She had two choices - to run or to fight. To try and leave and get back to the camp, because everything made sense there and she knew where she stood, or to fight. Mainly with herself, but it was a start. As she moved into the workout room, she ignored all the equipment, and focused on the punching bag.
Tense, she started a pattern that she'd learnt with her dad. Hand combat wasn't something he'd trained her on, much preferring long range weapons, but she'd learnt a few moves. And the more she repeated them, with more and more ferocity, the more her fists hurt. But she didn't care. The pain was punishment for being weak. For letting the person who hurt her the most see her hurting. For crying about anything in the first place. For being far from the strong woman she'd been encouraged to be. To stand on her own two feet, not to be the girl who had to lean on anyone.
She heard the door open, but she kept her back to them, continuing to punch hard. She didn't care if she was waking people up, she didn't care if Derek didn't know where she was - he would've been by to take the belt off by now, but she didn't care any more. About any of it. She didn't belong to anyone, even though she did. Both legally, lovingly, and morally. And all three were different people.
Maybe she should leave. Go to the camps and forget all about all of it.
"Go away." She said to the person, already having a good idea about who it was.