Just another night.

A hard slap fell across her cheek, and her hands drooped to her sides as she could feel the heat inside of her. The break in her focus felt like being thrown through a pane of glass.

"Again. Concentrate."

"Maybe I could concentrate if you'd quite slapping me!" she hissed.

"Again." 

Tyrant.

Kay woke up, feeling cold, terror rippling across her body. If she still did sweat, she would be laying in mud, rather than the comforting soil of her home. She buried her face in it, inhaling the smell of oil and despair. The nights of old plagued her frequently, and she tried many nights to find a way to dampen it. She lived in a terrible cycle: Rage took over, someone was hurt, her nightmares tore her to shreds, her rage took over again. Again and again her Beast controlled her, and her humanity fought back. The turmoil tore her apart inside and, she feared one day, out. 

Meditation and careful practice was all she could do to control the Beast. She knew that the fights were bad for it, that one day she would lose control, but it just felt so good, fist making contract with flesh. Standing in the ring with a mortal, crowds cheering for her, people counting on her to win, made her feel so powerful. If nothing else, it was good money, considering she would never come to real harm.

It was way better than living with Casimir.