In the three days since my last encounter with Malcolm, I had had a lot to think over.

My feet pounded against the pavement and sweat ran in streams from my temples. My tight fitting t-shirt clung to my body and I was certain that the outline of my sports bra was showing through the thin material, but I could care less.

They say that physical activity is a great stress-reliever, but I think that is an understatement. My time running on the track team was just about the only thing that had been able to stop the constant buzz in my head since the last time I was with Malcolm.

The wind in my face, the burning in my thighs, and the ground flying by underneath my feet freed me from the constant questions I had for myself. Was I a slut? Was I a sinner? Did the needs of my body outweigh the needs of my eternal soul? Do I even believe in all that, or do I just force myself to so that my mother doesn’t beat me?

It was truly a wonder that I was even allowed to compete in a school sport, since I spent most of my time locked in the house, but even this small privilege did not come without stipulations. I was only allowed to be on the team as long as I attended the “Christian Athletes United,” meetings every other week in the health classroom after school. No meeting, no practice, and it killed me.

As I rounded a curve in the long track winding around the football field, I felt a presence coming up on my right. I was a strong runner, so there was only one other person who could get close to me: Gloria Middleton.

Gloria was part of the reason I dreaded those stupid Christian meetings. She was a devout Catholic who had attended the same church as me and made my life hell for as long as I could remember. She had long dirty blonde hair that nearly hung down to her ass (I don’t think she was allowed to cut it). I could clearly tell through her tight-fitting, sweat-soaked t-shirt that she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her golden skin glistened in the sun and while the very sight of her filled me with rage, I couldn’t help but be intrigued by her physical beauty. Perhaps, too intrigued…

Lost in my thoughts, she managed to pass me up, looking back only for a second to flash me an evil grin, not unlike the one Malcolm so often gave me.

I sprinted as fast as I could to catch up with her, keeping up our reputation as bitter rivals. Just as I came up on her, getting ready to flash her an, “I beat you, bitch,” smile, I felt my feet slip out from under me and the next thing I knew I was laying on the concrete with serious pain in my ankle.

I barely registered Gloria’s vicious laughter as the coach came over to tend to me.

“Jeez, you alright?” the stocky blonde man inquired.