Rhage 2.25.12

Rhage
*My heart thudded loudly in my chest as my feet pounded on the treadmill in the PT suite. The monotonous beat helping me to space out, for the moment drowning out the constant buzz from the beast that lived in my skin, always itching, aching to get out, to wreak death and destruction and then leave me feeling like my body and been turned inside out then shoved back with a few added unpinned grenades gingerly nestled in my stomach. My heart pounding, my scorched throat making me feel like I was a seriously untalented fire-eater. But it wasn't enough. I needed that burn everywhere.

I punched at the control panel of the treadmill to shut the thing off and stepped off, grabbing a towel and wiping my hands and face as I made my way over to one of the benches, loading the barbell with free weights. I shook off the flitter of doubt that ran through my mind. I was by no means a weakling. I wouldn't need a spotter. I hoped.

Lying down on the bench, my feet braced on the floor, I grasped the bar and pushed, the air in my lungs rushing out as I felt the weight settle in my arms and down to my shoulders and back. I inhaled deeply through my nose as I lifted the weights, then slowly blew it out of my mouth as I lowered the bar to my chest. My lips stretched in a tight grin of satisfaction as I finally felt the exquisite burn of strain spreading through my muscles. My arms shook slightly, every muscle ablaze as I forced lift after lift, yearning for the dull throb of pain that heralded the promise of exhausted sleep, an escape from the constant irritation of another beast crawling under your skin, fighting for release at every turn.

The forced roster was wreaking havoc with my self-control. I relied on the fights to curb the beast's need to lash out. fuck. The sex was a release. But there was only so much sleaze I could take. Despite what people thought, I didn't enjoy it nearly as much as they think I do. And wasn't that a kicker? fucking ADHD. * #BBDB