Sci·am·a·chy noun [sahy-am–uh-kee]: an act or instance of fighting a shadow or an imaginary enemy.
My enemy is ruthless. My enemy is full of spite.
My enemy is clever. My enemy is full of might.
The only sound in the room was the pounding of feet on the wooden floor and the harsh gasp of labored breathing. If it wasn’t for me she thought to herself, this room would be quiet… serene. Why am I disturbing its peace? This was of course exactly the sort of silly existentialist distraction that would probably get her killed someday. She shook her head as if her distractions were insects she was trying to frighten and tried to bring her focus back to the task at hand.
Right, right, left, right.
Side to side, dodge and strike.
Her hands hurt from the abuse inflicted on them, and her throat was raw from the intensity of her breathing. A brief swipe across her face to try and get some of the sweat away, she hated when it got into her eyes. The sting was distracting. She hated distractions. She wished she could stop, just for a moment, and find something she could use to wipe it away. Maybe she could even catch her breath. But she knew she could never give them that satisfaction. She knew that any pause would be a sigh of weakness.
My enemy is watching me, my enemy is close.
My enemy knows me well and celebrates all my woes.
Stupid stupid stupid. Do you really think you can do anything about the situation you’re in? If your attempts at self salvation weren’t so sad they would be amusing. But they aren’t, they just make me sad. Sad that something like you exists in my world. Because you are pitiful. I would pity you myself if I wasn’t so disgusted by everything about you.
Kick, Punch, block, Punch.
Feint to the left, strike to the right.
Finally, exhaustion overcame her and the strength fled from her limbs. She stopped moving and lowered her arms, and her head dropped in defeat. Sweat kept trickling down her neck, unaware that the game was over and they’d lost. No point. She looked back up at her tormenter, with all the hatred she could muster. Her reflection glared back at her. You will never be good enough.
My enemy lives inside my head, my enemy knows my fears.
My enemy never lets me be and causes all my tears.