Chapter 84 The Cracks Beneath The Crown Ii
- y evening, I’ve completed most of the week’s work and turn to the gym in a desperate attempt to quiet my mind. The rhythmic thud of fists against the punching bag is intoxicating, grounding. The first few hits sting, but soon the pain dulls, replaced by focus.
- Strike. Breathe. Strike again.
- It’s a perfect rhythm, a brutal kind of meditation. No thoughts. No memories. No forbidden names.