My knuckles were pounding, feeling aflame right to the bone. My whole body was sore, and some parts, I felt like I was crumbling away into dust. I wish I could, but I knew I wasn’t.

Taking in a deep, almost pained breath, I got up and grabbed the bandages to rewrap the punching bag. After almost obliterating the wall to my bedroom and almost causing bankruptcy for us months ago, my brothers managed to scrape enough money together to buy a punching bag. Which I was grateful for, because I’ve used it almost to its breaking point.

But now it seems backwards.

Restlessness crept into my head and soon consumed my body. It consumed so much of me to the extent where I wasn’t avoiding sleep—I couldn’t go to sleep. Flashes of agonizing memories flew by in my mind’s eye.

A harsh light stung my eyes as I tried to see where I was. 

Cold, metal ceiling. Murmuring voices. White, rubber gloves. Empty eyes.

I finished wrapping the bag and gave it a final tap where the bandages ended. I couldn’t help but give a hollow smile.

My peripheral vision catches a brief flash of something small and silver before I feel a scalpel providing an incision to my inner systems.

I struggle, but the titanium braces on my arms, legs, and neck don’t yield, despite my inhuman strength.

But I keep struggling, trying to get them to stop.

Long, sharp nails scratching on hardwood floor snaps my attention back to reality as I hear one of my younger brothers pacing the room. At least I wasn’t the only one this worked up.

Walking towards the window, I gently shifted part of my ratty curtains back to estimate the time. The sun was still on its way up into the sky. There was still much darkness left, shrouding the small city.

I sighed as I let the curtains fall to their original position. There still was quite a ways until morning.

As I slid down the wall to a sitting position, I immediately regretted it as a painful wave of fatigue hit me. I shook my head and stumbled to get up. No one knew of these yet, but I was pretty sure a couple of my other brothers were in the same situation as I was.

I jolted awake to the sensation of needles pricking at my insides and numerous murmuring voices that echoed in my head. I fell to my natural instincts as I jumped up, freeing myself from invisible, nonexistent braces around my joints and, with an angered roar, I punch the only thing that comes off to me as a threat, as I’ve been punching it for hours on end: my punching bag.

The contents of whatever the punching bag consisted of began to spill out of the bag as I straightened myself, my mind slowly sinking back into reality.

I had dozed off. Usually I had the strength to at least get up from a sitting position, but without adequate sleep for several days, it had left me.

Willing my legs to not go for the bed, I just went to the small kitchen to see what I could find for breakfast.

It’s hard to find a decent morning meal, with them on our tracks.