Your painful tortures will not break me. Each day you force me through this, and my will, will never break. One day I will escape you. One day my legs will carry me, and I will walk away, free!
Havenworlder to patient - "Alright, it's time for physical therapy again. Worry not, your legs will recover from your accident, I promise." -- Anon Guest
Another day, another session in the torture room. Human Isle had to do it, even though ze hated it. The only way out was to get through.
"Good morning Human Isle," chirped the torturer, Medik Therapist Oz. "Ready to tackle today's challenge?" She always had a sunny disposition. Which never helped Isle's attitude.
"No. And I refuse to bow to your vile machinations."
"Mua-haha," Oz deadpanned, and followed it with a song, "The pain is gain as long as it's maintained."
Isle half-jokingly added the counterpoint in the same song, "I want to kill you."
"You'd have to catch me first," laughed Oz.
"Yeah, that's always the downside," grumbled Isle. "What's the torment today? Friction cycling, the parallel bars, lift and separate?"
"High kicks," announced Oz, "with virtual cathartic motivation."
The ARG goggles went on, and a cartoon effigy of Oz was bouncing around temptingly within kicking range.
"You know me too dang well, doc." It would hurt, Isle knew it, and it would go on way too long. But sweet Powers there would be satisfaction aplenty in punting hir torturer across the room. Even if it was a cartoonishly ridiculous effigy.
Motivation was motivation.
[Photo by Junseong Lee on Unsplash]
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