Samantha Nunez

Professor Jackie
English 101
September 23, 2015

Nunez 1

The Hive
I stood there completely determined and prepared for what would happen next. I cleared my
mind of all fearsome thoughts and insecurities. I put to sleep every desire to shake and tremble.
Instead I looked into the shattered dirty mirror that lay in front of me and stared into the eyes of
the short chunky girl, posing as a statue, completely still and patient as if my only place in this
world was that small filthy black square I stood upon. Silence crept through the room. My
audience was no different than I. They too, only waited and did not dare make the slightest of
movements. It was an enclosed room engraved in the state of tension, a calamity waiting to take
place for all sadists to experience.
I then felt his presence forthcoming from the back room. I could distinguish his aura from
miles away. This was an extremely big, strong and overall powerful feel. And if you were to look
him in the eye you too would shrink. I couldnt face him, I was not allowed to look upon the eyes
that held in everything youve ever feared and everything youve ever loved put into a labyrinth
of pure hindrance. I could only look forward into the little girls frown that awaited an order. It
began. He spoke harshly. I commanded to every word that slid between his lips as I no longer
had a name. I was an instrument, a mechanism completing its form of tasks as it was created to
ever do. Sweat dripped down my face slipping on every inch of my body. My breaths became
heavy yet I wouldnt and couldnt resist. Every action, every breath, represented me and who I
Nunez 2

Was, who I was aiming to become. All I ever wanted was to become greater as to not pity the girl
in the mirror. To be pushed and pushed around some more so that I could go beyond what I ever
thought I was capable of doing. Like a bird taking flight I needed more than anything to say that
Ive touched the sky.
A well known spectator was given the invitation of becoming my opponent, a beautiful girl
whom I envied. Unlike me, she was not a little girl, she was fierce, intelligent and she was no
chump. I dont recall the first punch, I remember the first seven. Hitting everywhere from my
chest, to my hands, to my very ribs. A quick throw of bare hands that nearly defied all physics.
There came more, too quick to even react. One hit my face, another hit my core and it went on
for minutes until I was pushed towards a wall where I fell and let out a tiny squeal much like a
pig. He pitied me. He demanded her to stop then brought upon yet another girl followed by
another. As if dj vu were not a myth, I was soon covered again in bruises and not once did I
cry. You see, pain did not exist in this world. We were dull to it. All we ever needed to know was
that this was mind over matter, always. I only hushed my mind and watched everything before
me, patiently waiting for it to end, aware of the many more to come. This was a freak show in
which I took part as the fool and though self hate is a strong word, I could only practice it the
whole event. I was brought forth another combatant.
Her black shade of sash meant danger. I was in for an even greater beating. She struck at me. I
went to the back of my mind and replayed every memory I had the 7 months prior to that
evening; smiles, laughs and hardships. I felt the warmth of a hot summers day grow beneath my
chest, so calming and soothing. I wondered when I ever fell in love with the art. When had I
become
Nunez 3

so head over heels that I was willing to go through hell for it. It was me all along. It was as if I
had found myself in it. My name was written somewhere in between its masterpiece. I respected
it more than anything in this world and therefore, I had to show that I was worthy of utilizing
such beauty. I threw my hands back at her. I ended blows meant for me and held nothing back. I
loved karate and with it I loved myself. I never valued so highly till the day I stepped foot into
the universe that was packed inside that room.
Then king bee, the man that could control every motion in that space, halted us and had me
step in front of him. He let drop the bleached strap I carried around my waist. I took one last look
at it; it was such a lack of hue, symbolizing innocence, the inexperienced of the hard knocks. He
unveiled what to me was a crown. He placed the colored belt around me and tied it as I withheld
tears that I had kept hidden inside me as I stored all emotions throughout the battle, a
combination of fright and anxiety. The sealing of the belt began. The first blow was rough, I
know by the overwhelming sound that it echoed but I couldnt feel the slightest tingle as my
mind was in a moment of euphoria. The second and third gave the same results. I heard the
whispers of others as the hits created a ringing effect. Soon, all was done. Before I knew it I was
embraced in hugs and was checked by friends for any bleeding or swelling. I took into account
the soreness in my legs and the cuts on my chest, surprised I hadnt lost my breathing in a vital
blow right above the center of my heart. It really just made me feel the more alive. A fire of
jubilation crept through the cracks in the mirrors and I smelled the heavy, yucky, scent of my
hard work. With that, I knew it was time to get out of the sauna of a place but as a new person, a
stinker and stronger being.