| Her fists struck repeatedly, the sound of her blows echoing back to her; strong and solid. As each forceful blow struck its unprotesting target it released more of the wondrous endorphins that dulled the pain clutching almost constantly at her heart. Her hands ached, the knuckles bruising from the repeated impact and she welcomed the pain as proof that she was real; was more than the empty, numb shell that had crawled out of what should have been its eternal resting place. She drew back to strike again, relishing the momentary feeling of power and life that the violence brought. |