[CW] Stronger

[Chase]

Prologue

There's a saying out there.

What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger.

I assume that this is implying that each experience we survive in life lends literal.... life experience. If a mighty warrior is able to survive a battle, the experience from said battle will aid him in the battles to come. If a husband loses his loved one, he knows from the time spent with that person how to treat the next woman he's willing to make those sacrifices for or at the very least know what it takes to help other men in their pursuits. The experience becomes the man's testimony, and figuratively, another arrow in his quiver.

Perhaps it also plays into a form of "muscle memory" - or a habitual action in repeating instances of similar fashion. The warrior knows which movements he should make to effectively parry and slash with his blade in the next assault. The heartbroken man knows how to lace his words in order to woo, or the right touch to provide his partner with the feeling of security. The marksman is able to release his bowstring faster because he can place his fingers exactly where they need to be from prior doing so.

Life is more than just a battle, but for me, it's always felt like one regardless of the task. The forces at work hollering orders down into the trenches at me as I rush to follow them. Over the top! Retreat! Find cover! Damn the mortars! Press onward!

The results of my efforts look a little different than the imagery entwined with the orders. A dishwasher full of clean dishes. Another co-worker satisfied. Another friend comforted and another self fulfilled. Another workday marked off the calendar. Another fatigued body tucked safely under the comforter for yet another well deserved night of rest.

Success. For Now.

As I brandish my sword one last time before slipping it into it's sheath, I ponder the meaning of getting stronger, as well as my experiences.

One thing is for certain, I'm still in the fight - so I better make improvement somewhere.

[Chase]

"Holden"

"Holden, wake up."

Morning. Again.

Waking up is a lot like living in itself. To sleep is easy. To die is easy. It's the reverse that is hard. Rising out of the horizontal dregs of murdered bliss somehow felt like I was trying to rise with a weight sitting squarely on my chest. The struggle, experienced each day, resultingly takes more of a toll on my mood than the hours of sleep that preceded it, and this is why I fail on most days to carry a smile throughout the morning.

The person who kicked me from my slumber is my roommate, Rachel. There was a time where I had it for her. She's the kind of girl who walked in the middle of the hallways throughout our grade school years. She warded off men because she wasn't meek, but yet also warded off women because she wasn't a conformist. When you stick out and you're proud of it, that's what leaves an impression right?

I was anything but. I and the three others I knew were one of the many pods of students that stood to the side out of her way. I was most certainly down to earth and quick to admit when I was bested.

In fact, when we did hook up, it was out of her overconfidence. It helped me grow in many ways. I went from feeble to retaliatory. I went from having no taste to being a bit acidic. Iron sharpens iron, as they say.

Our short lover's tiff ended in natural parting.... for the most part. Just as she sharpened me, I sharpened her. She quickly began to form pods of her own, and due to her own influences those pods would overwhelm my own in numbers. She was cordial about cutting the string, and I, in my growing apathy for the concept of partnership, obliged.

The only thing that didn't change, was the fact that we lived together. Ex-compatriots of love sharing the same bed, using it for it's intended purpose. It wasn't ideal, but the both of us at least cared for one another in that managing funds as a unit still gave us a chance to move on.

On a personal note, without Rachel, I may not even be able to awaken at all. While I may not love her, she's as good an alarm clock as they come.

---

Rachel was never one to act ladylike. She wore an over-sized tank and what looked like boxers as opposed to the more feminine undergarments. This was always something I liked, even without being in love with her. If anything else, it was something to tell the fellows at work about on a good day.

Her usual routine was insult me, while serving breakfast. In hindsight, it probably looked like we were married for several years to everyone else. I would say something equally unpleasant and follow it up with a grunt in gratitude before eating. This was followed by simultaneous chewing and small talk, before we put ourselves together and went our separate ways.

"Oh, Holden, my friend Natalie doesn't have a date for the social next week."

"So?"

"You don't have a date for the social either. Not that it's any surprise."

"If it's not so surprising, why are you telling me this then? Wouldn't she not be interested?"

"I mean, she already gets all the reasons she shouldn't be from me, and y-..."

"She is interested, isn't she."

I found myself smug. Rachel on the other hand looked rather annoyed. It wasn't that she was the jealous type. It was just part of her being to compete with me these days. It was like living with your best friend in a sense. There's a time to bring each other up, and a time to knock each other down. As much as she may enjoy the latter on a regular basis, her mentioning Natalie at all may have been the former - and it doesn't help that I'm employing a disgusting grin over the matter.

It may also be because if this Natalie is her friend, setting her up with someone who doesn't have a spark could only come from being the cause of loss herself. I do try to own my sins, but there are times where she is disquieted for some reason. Hopefully she doesn't blame herself too much.

What do I care, anyway. At the very least, this Natalie breaks up the whole monotonous life thing. For a while, it was getting stale.