-Vaughn Blackmore:
For a moment after the bar is racked, I don't move.
My back is still flat against the bench, chest rising too fast, lungs dragging in air like they're trying to catch up with something my body hasn't processed yet. My arms feel heavy, useless at my sides, the tremor still running through them from the strain.
Then the pain settles in.
Not gradually.
Sharp. Immediate. Wrong.
It hits my shoulder like something tearing under the surface, and I suck in a breath through my teeth before I can stop it. My hand comes up instinctively, gripping the joint, fingers pressing hard like I can hold it in place just by force.
"Shit…"
The word slips out low, barely there.
I push myself up anyway, slower this time, my body folding forward as I sit. My posture curls in slightly, one elbow braced on my thigh while my other hand stays clamped over my shoulder. It throbs under my palm, deep and hot, every small movement sending another sharp pulse through it.
