The mirror laughs at me as I stare at my body before heading to the gym. Find the three things you hate today. The voice whispers in my head, it's not my voice, it's his. Always his voice.

Leaving him was both the worst and the best choice I ever made, and the bravest. Now I just wish he would leave me alone, but every word he ever said to me sits in my soul like a malevolent darkness that crushes me with its weight.

I head to my local gym and notice there is a drop in self defence class starting today, maybe that would be good to check out. There's an empty treadmill in the corner and I start it up, running always helps me forget the words.

Two hours later and I can't stop, if I stop the cruelty will start again. My lungs are screaming at me, my stomach churning with nausea. A voice breaks me from my pattern, startling me. I turn and look at the man. My breath further leaves my body, he's literally breath taking. I turn my face back to the wall, hiding my unattractive face from his view, it's silly to even bother to hide it, the rest of me is so unattractive I'll repel him whatever I do.

Still feeling his eyes on me, I stop the treadmill and with wobbly legs walk a few feet away from it. My stomach screams and I double over as bile rises in my throat. The man still hasn't left- I can feel his eyes on me. I hear his footsteps move and I relax slightly more, a groan escapes me as I fight to stay upright. My water bottle is pushed into my hand, causing me to flinch from his kindness. Luckily he didn't notice it. I take it from his hand gratefully and gulp it down.

Once I pull it from my lips, I freeze. I can vaguely hear him talking at me, but it's muffled with the blood roaring in my ears as I feel the bile push past my resistance. Knowing I'm about to be sick, I walk quickly from the gym and into the changing room.

Whimpering, I lean over the toilet as another gripping wave of sickness tightens in my stomach. Due to only eating an apple for breakfast, I can only bring up acrid bile that coats my throat with a vengeance.

After I have cleared out my stomach, I stand as my muscles burn and make my way to the locker I own. Inside I keep a toothbrush and some toothpaste. I realised after a couple of trips that the taste of bile in your mouth was the worst thing ever. I clean my teeth quickly before leaving the room and making my way to the room where the defence lesson is taking place.

I freeze as I see who is standing at the front of the class. That man is standing there with his arms crosses? A fierce and blank look coats his face. Averting my gaze, I look at my feet and try to resist the thudding of my heart in my chest as I look at his tattooed arms.

He would never want you anyway, you're disgusting.

I find the mat furthest from him and take my place. To my horror, he begins to walk in my direction. His face is stern, his gaze directed at me. I squirm and look at the floor. Most of the other women keep chatting, a few watch, probably wondering why that gorgeous man is walking towards me.

"You can't take this class after running like that." He says discreetly.

"What?" I exclaim in irritation.

"You're exhausted, your legs won't stop shaking, I'm not teaching this class with you in it."

"You can't stop me." I hiss at him and turn back to the front.

He draws himself up to his full height, a staggering foot above my own, which is unusual given how tall I am for a woman. The disturbance has started to catch more attention and I can feel my face flushing.

"I am the instructor of this class, if I say you have to leave for your health- you have to leave."

Deciding not to argue further I let my head hang and I walk from the room. I can hear whispers and giggles as I walk out, I refuse to make eye contact with anyone. My face is flaming and I honestly want to die.

He has no right to make me leave! It's my body my choice.

My apartment is only a few streets away so I walk quickly and enjoy the cooling air of spring to defuse my embarrassment. The apartment is hideous, it was all I could afford from my job. As it turns out female journalist in a small, old fashioned town where nothing ever happens doesn't pay much, and whenever something does happen, like the muggings at the moment, it always goes to one of my four male coworkers. Misogyny is alive and well in my town still.

I'm essentially a glorified intern who makes coffee all day and does small time reports on competitions or lawn disputes. It's a fucking joke.

In my old town, I was working directly under the boss of that newspaper, but of course I had to leave that job when I left him.

I fall onto the second hand sofa I managed to snag on sale, you know your life is shit when you have a sofa in your apartment that you found on the street, just so you could have something to sit on.

My apartment is fairly chilly, heating in spring feels like a decadence I can't afford right now. I merely curl up under a blanket and begin to read one of my book. Wuthering heights.

Dusk had caught the sky and it was burning a salmon pink. So peaceful and tranquil my mood was, I almost didn't hear the knock at the door. Grumbling, I stand from the sofa and grab the baseball bat I keep by the door before looking through the peephole.

It's that asshole of an instructor, begrudgingly, I open the door and drop the bat. His eyes widen when he sees that.

"Jeez I know I pissed you off, just not that much surely."

"Wasn't for you." I mumble in response.

"Right well... eh." He clears his throat and looks down at the ground awkwardly. "You left your bottle." He holds it out and I take it from him.

"Thanks." I reply flatly before I go to close my door. His foot stops it and I jump as he does that. This time he catches my flinch and swiftly removes his foot.

"I'm sorry. I was just worried about you."