Page 3 of Shattered By Grace

She hugged herself, feeling the chill of the early morning and the weight of exhaustion settling in her muscles. Her eyes scanned the dimly lit street, catching sight of a lone figure emerging from the gym.Can't sleep either?,she thought, a flicker of empathy stirring within her.

Glancing both ways, she sprinted across the street, her sneakers slapping against the pavement. The quiet of the city enveloped her, making her feel both vulnerable and exhilarated as she approached the gym's entrance.

The smell of the gym hit her like a flying punch to the face, a potent mix of sweat, rubber mats, and the faint metallic tang of equipment. The gym was deserted, its emptiness amplifying the echo of her footsteps on the polished floor.

The layout was familiar, reminiscent of other gyms she had trained in. In the center stood a large boxing ring, its ropes slightly worn from countless matches. Heavy bags hung in a row, swaying gently as if moved by an invisible breeze. Weights were neatly racked along one wall, gleaming under the dim overhead lights.

Victoria’s gaze wandered over the gym’s layout, her steps echoing in the vast, empty space. Full-length mirrors lined the walls, their reflective surfaces multiplying her solitary figure. The silence of the room was thick, broken only by the faint, rhythmic thud of her sneakers against the floor. As she moved through the space, her reflection brought a rush of nostalgia, conjuring memories of intense training sessions with her father. She could almost hear his stern yet encouraging voice, guiding her through jab combinations and defensive maneuvers.

Lost in thought, she was jolted back to reality by a deep, resonant voice. “Can I help you, miss?”

Victoria jumped, her heart leaping in her chest. She turned quickly to find a tall, broad-shouldered man standing at the entrance, his eyes fixed on her with a mix of curiosity and professionalism.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, her voice betraying her surprise. “I didn’t see you when I came in. I just?—”

“Couldn’t sleep?” the assistant guessed, his tone gentle but perceptive. “It’s a common thing. The gym’s open twenty-four/seven, so you’re free to use it whenever you need. I’m Casey.”

Victoria nodded, feeling a mix of relief and embarrassment. Following Casey up to the front desk to fill out the form for the pass. “Hey do you have any tape or wraps I can buy?”

“No, we don’t, but I have some sitting around. I’ll get it for you while you fill this stuff out,” Casey said, offering a reassuring smile before heading to the back.

Victoria's grip on the pen tightened as she glared at the form in front of her. It was just a form. Name, address, emergency contact. But to her, it might as well have been a loaded gun with her real name etched into the barrel..

In that small space for a name, she could feel the weight of her past and present colliding. The name ‘Victoria Grace’taunted her, bringing back memories of that terrible night when she was fifteen. A night that changed everything.

She couldn't use that name anymore, not after what happened. Not after she fought her way out of hell and reinvented herself as ‘Grace Scarlett’. She suppressed a shudder, trying to push away the memories of being knocked out and waking up in a moving car, hurtling towards danger.

But she refused to be a victim, using her father's rigorous training to break free from the car and escape into the night with determination. She navigated the city with precision, the streets familiar to her thanks to her father's strict teachings. And they led her to safety that night, heart racing as she ran through the urban maze.

The memory of Detective Adams' presence still haunted her like a suffocating storm cloud, his gruff voice echoing in her mind: “You are now Grace Scarlett.” The name was a desperate attempt to leave behind the horrors of her past life. Even now, she could still feel the bruises on her body and the paralyzing fear as she raced through the dark city streets, fighting for her life with every step.

You’re safe now, she reminded herself, trying to shake off the lingering fear.You’re Grace Scarlett. You’ve built a new life. But the city was a constant reminder of her past, and every corner seemed to whisper the name she had left behind.

Victoria took a deep breath, grounding herself in the present. The gym’s fluorescent lights buzzed softly overhead, the smell of rubber mats and sweat filling the air. It was a far cry from the sterile safety of her apartment, but it was real, tangible.

She filled out the form with practiced ease, writing Grace Scarlett in neat, precise letters. As she did, Casey returned with a roll of athletic tape and a set of wraps, placing them on the counter with a friendly nod.

“Here you go. These should do the trick,” Casey said, handing her items gently.

Victoria forced a smile, grateful for the distraction. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“No problem. Need any help getting started?” Casey asked, his tone friendly and welcoming.

“Actually, yeah,” she replied, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “I could use a rundown of the equipment. It’s been a while since I’ve trained properly.”

“Sure thing. Follow me,” Casey said, leading her toward the training area.

As they walked, Victoria took one last glance at the form on the counter, the name Grace Scarlett standing out starkly against the white paper. She squared her shoulders, ready to face whatever came next.

Chapter Two

Walking into a new place was always hard, but this felt different. The sterile bite of disinfectant and antiseptic filled the air, softened by the faint aroma of coffee and something slightly medicinal that was oddly comforting. The hum of distant conversations, the occasional beep of machines, and the soft shuffle of shoes against tile created a backdrop that was somehow both familiar and unsettling.

Why are you nervous? You already have the job,she reminded herself, a wry smile tugging at her lips. A soft, breathy chuckle escaped, but it did little to steady her racing heart. She was here now; it was too late to turn back.

Victoria approached the information desk, gripping the strap of her bag a little tighter. Inside, her neatly folded scrubs lay untouched. She had chosen to dress professionally, wanting to make a good first impression on her new boss before her shift. Despite her effort to appear confident, anxiety bubbled beneath her skin, making her palms slick with sweat. Discreetly, she wiped them against the sides of her coat.Get it together,she thought, rolling her shoulders back and forcing a steady breath.

“Can I help ya’?” The voice startled her. An older woman, probably in her sixties, sat behind the desk, her gray hair tied back in a loose bun. Tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, a nervous habit she had developed over the years, she nodded. “Hi, I’m looking for the director of Labor and Delivery… Whitney Connors?” Her voice wavered slightly, but she kept her tone polite and steady.

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