_The art of survival_

Violet.

"Twenty-five," I counted as I continued doing suicide. My last count when I was young which was the last time I did ,,Ysuicide was thirty.

I fought to steady my breath. I felt pain in my ribs and lungs. My chest hurts but I couldn't stop.

I zeroed my mind from thinking what I was doing was a punishment, I was merely exercising. If there is arrangements foruw0805 360 4042,.a on the other court alone, going back and forth, losing breath and strength.t

I glanced at the wall clock and the time was only 1:30 pm. It's going to be a long day. I know Coach Ben l leave the court until 8 p.m.

Maybe I should set my pride aside and beg him. This was a death sentence. There is no way I am going to do suicide till the end of the day.

"Violet…" he called out. He must have noticed me resting. I picked up my pace and continued in agony. There is no way around it, I would suffer this alone.

After a very long time, my teammates were done with their training and they joined me in running some suicides before they decided to leave.

There was no other way for them to show me how sorry they felt about me and I am grateful. Coach Ben on the other hand was on the bench, eating with Mia. The court was blank and it was almost dark.

I tried to give up and storm out of the court but then I remembered Diana Taurasi. She is the one who kept me going.

I held my hand in a fist and kept on running. The sound of my sneakers screeched and it echoed.

"How's it going, Violet?" Mia shouted.

"Great, as you can see you, dummy."

I felt like I might collapse any time from now. I was hungry, I hadn't eaten anything apart from a bite of Mom's sandwich, perhaps Coach didn't know that.

"Fifty-Eight," I called out and slowed down. My breath, I couldn't catch it anymore. I felt dizzy and the world seemed to be falling, perhaps I was the one falling.

"Violet?"

"Violet?"

Mia and Coach Ben's voices were the last things I heard before it all ended in a blur.

*****

I woke up from a heavy splash of water.

"Dad, she's awake," Mia said.

I sat up and rubbed the water from my face. Heavy migraine stung the side of my head, causing dying pain.

At the same time, my stomach growled. Right, I haven't eaten all day. I looked around and we were still in the court.

"Are you okay?" Coach ran up to me mustering some kind of worried face. I yanked my hand from him when he tried to touch me. He has done it again, successfully killing me and bringing me back to life. Balling Jesus that is.

I stood up, Mia helped me. "I should continue with the suicide, you're still here," I said and checked the time. It was a few minutes after eight PM, he would leave soon.

I knew pretty well that I had no strength left to take a step but I waited for him to stop me, and he did.

"That's enough."

I looked at him with teary eyes and weak eyelids. "Dad, what exactly did I do to you? Last night you made me throw one thousand shots yesterday and told me to make five hundred baskets. I did it, you were with me all through, watching and counting. We left the court at three a.m. I tried to wake up as early as I could but I couldn't, I was only thirty minutes late, yet, I didn't lay my hands on any ball today. All I did was kill myself over and over again. Diana didn't do this much."

He sat by me while Mia brought me some bread silently. I was damn hungry. I munched on them and watched Dad look at the both of us.

"What is it?" I asked between mouthfuls of chocolate bread.

"You'll see the usefulness of your training tomorrow. With what you did today, there is no way you won't survive any offense in a game. If you had come earlier, I was still going to tell you to go on suicide. What you did last night and what you did today, it's called the art of surviving." He placed a hand on my arm.

"Now, I am sure you would do better than Diana."

Now I get it. But he didn't have to go through these methods. When I was done eating, I grabbed my bag and my skateboard.

Coach Ben drove us home. When we got home, my shoes were the first thing I removed. My legs have become sour from the heat.

"Evening Mom," I greeted her faintly. She was with her crochet stuff and yarns, probably making something for her husband.

Finally, I'm home. I can safely call Coach Ben's Dad. He's more of a mentor than a Dad or a Coach. Dad's my best friend and on the court, we are nothing but coaches and students and I took that seriously. Thanks to him, I was able to find my hero, Diana.

When I was young, Dad took me to one of the summer Games for the WNBA. Seeing her on that court, sweeping everyone away with her crazy moves, made me realize there's more to life than studying.

She made basketball look like a piece of cake. I hope to be a hero to someone else too someday and that is why I have to give it my all.

Dad told me to get enough rest, tomorrow is another big day. Is there any day that isn't a big day? I don't have time to watch movies or play around, I've got some bigger goals to chase and that makes me wonder how easy it is for other girls to stay in the house doing nothing all day.

I think I'll die if I miss training for one day. We have a tournament in a month and I am the Captain of my team. I can't wait to go to that competition and get what I lost.

I ate a lot of food for dinner, ordered from Dad. He can be sweet at times. He told me that I'll be needed on court by noon tomorrow so I have from now till then to sleep and eat.

Mia came to my room with her pillow.

"I still need to learn you know, when others tried joining you for suicide, I couldn't finish one. Makes me think, how did you do Fifty-Eight?"

I laughed and hugged her, "You'll find out soon. It's an art of survival."