Lancia Audren, D6 (17)
My muscles burned as I held my legs straight out, pointing at the ceiling while I rested on my elbows on the floor. It was a difficult, taxing pose that tested a gymnast's strength, endurance, and most of all, her discipline.
Don't fall. Don't ever fall.
Gymnastics was more than a sport for me. It was a shield between me and what District Six could do to you. It was order to combat entropy. It was strength to stave of weakness.
When I started, there were twenty girls in my class. Now, there were six. Some of us didn't have the time. Some of us needed to get jobs and make money. Some of us found other hobbies or just drifted off. For too many of my former companions, that wasn't the problem.
Tally had been a good gymnast when I met her. She joined the class before I did, and she was always better than me. I didn't know the whole story at first, but when I heard it, it was familiar. One day, after a particularly hard session, she took a hit. One hit, and she was addicted. She started coming to class glassy-eyed and out of breath. Tiny bruises dotted her arms, and they ached when she got on the parallel bars. We saw the fear in her eyes as she realized couldn't go back. She started to miss classes, and after one class, she just never came back.
It wasn't usually that extreme. Most of my classmates dabbled in drugs, and some of them were still better than I was. I just couldn't take that chance. I'd seen what could happen. One mistake and I could destroy my body and my mind. I'd seen spectral waifs wandering the streets, offering me favors for a hit. Sometimes there would be someone lying in an alley, their mottled blue arms giving it away that they weren't sleeping.
I could hardly breathe, I was straining so much. My legs trembled and tried to sneak back toward the ground.
No. I won't be weak.
Whether or not it was gymnastics, I was going to make something of myself. I was in charge of my destiny. I could take the easy way out, or I could be vigilant. I guarded myself day and night, screening my friends and keeping a rigid schedule. I watched my nutrition and hydration and got up at six whether I was going to class or not. I knew it seemed extreme, but so much was at risk.
My legs shook and sweat dripped into my eyes. I counted to ten, forcing myself to drop only when I was done.
My legs thumped to the ground. I rolled over to catch my breath. I stared at the ceiling and planned my next move. When my breathing was steady, I moved to the parallel rings and pulled myself up.
Keep going. Always stay strong.
There are some pictures of Lancia on Deviantart. She looks a lot like a stick figure.