Survivor

16 > "I'm an Accardi, I look good in everything." ~Enrico

Hey guys
I sincerely apologize for not updating on time.
The WiFi got finished and between having no lights and all the school work we get, I just didn't get the chance to update.

I apologize once again.

Anyways I know you guys aren't interested in all of that, let's get on with the story.

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I woke up dysfunctional and disoriented. The memory that had paid me a visit last night kept on playing over and over, bits of it flashing through my mind.

I took deep breathes trying to control it to no avail. I stood up and used my hands as a guide allowing them to run over the wall just like in my dream. Except it was a memory. I made it to the bathroom sink and I opened the tap to cold, splashing the water onto my face.

Closing the tap I leaned my head against the mirror taking deep breaths and calming my heart that was beating wildly. Once I was finally in a good or rather a stable state of mind I made my way over to my closet and got dressed into workout clothing.

I grabbed my hand wraps and made my way over to the gym, stopping by the kitchen for bottled water. I began stretching and warming up my muscles making sure my body was loose before grabbing a skipping rope and skipping for about 10 minutes.

Once I was done I wrapped my hands and went at the punching bag. For once my movements weren't as precise and controlled as they usually were. I wasn't in a fight or even practising for one. It was merely an outlet for the anger that coursed through my veins.

Anger at all the memories that were resurfacing, all the negativity, the people that had an bad impact on my life, the people that had to be left behind. And anger at myself. For allowing those experiences to control me, to run my life.

I attacked the bag, punch after punch not even bothering with the hand wrap that was slowly loosening and falling off from my left hand.

"You are a pathetic excuse of a daughter."
A right hook aimed at Jennifer Parker.

"I didn't ask, you are coming with me."
A left hook aimed at the asshole I had sent to the hospital at my previous school.

"You are gonna lose little girl, the ring is no place for a fragile thing like you."
Two consecutive punches aimed at the guy who brought a switch blade to a fist fight.

"Well well well, look what we have here boys."
A punch to the gut aimed at the people who jumped me on my way home.

"How's my beautiful daughter doing today?"
A jab at the pressure point of the person who killed Mr Williams whilst he was saving them, who happened to be Seb's dad and the only father figure I had ever had in my life.

"Just give us what the fuck we want!"
An upper cut aimed at the drunk neighbours we had back in Cali who broke into our apartment and came close to harming Mia.

"You are nothing more than a burden and that's all you'll ever be."
A roundhouse kick aimed at Greg Thompson who commited too many crimes to count and ruined the childhood of both Mia and I.

Punch upon punch, I poured out my anger and frustration onto the punching bag. It seemed as if the flood gates had been opened and it flooded in the form of any style of fighting I knew, raining down havoc on the punching bag the happened to be the object I was taking out my anger on.

I gave the bag one final strong right hook and stepped back breathing heavily. My hand was burning and it was only then that I noticed that my hand wrap had fallen off, causing the skin on my hand to split open when it came into contact with the bag.