His Ghetto Flower

Date?

Victoria Justice as Isabel. Picture above is Isabel in her boxing gear.

*Not Edited*

One, Two. Punch, punch

One, Two, Three. Punch, punch, punch

One, Two. Punch, punch

He's going to try to kill me.

One, two. Punch, punch.

He will try to hurt me again.

One, Two, Three. Punch, punch, punch.

One day I won't be able to run anymore.

One, two. Punch, punch.

"Isabel." I can faintly hear someone call my name.

I can't let him get to me.

One, Two, Three. Punch, punch, punch.

"Isabel."

I won't let him hurt me again.

One, two. Punch, punch.

"ISABEL!"

Someone grabbed my gloved hands and turned me away from the punching bag. Still in a daze, I blinked my eyes several times to refocus. I was panting hard, I could feel my body drenching of sweat. The person who held my hands started shaking my arms, trying to pull me out of my exhausting blur. I closed my eyes when I started to feel the room spin. I worked myself out too hard this time. I can feel it.

I felt myself being dragged away from my mental torment and then I was pushed down on a bench. The whole time my eyes are closed. I was trying to regain my breath and hoping that would ease the dizziness. I could feel my arms being pulled as someone was taking my gloves off my hands. As soon as they were off, I dropped my head into my hands. A nap would be so good right now.

Suddenly I felt cold water run down my back and I jolted in surprise. Then someone lifted my head up by my chin and I felt more water run down my face. I opened my eyes to see who was trying to drown me when I saw Rick. My trainer. His face was a bit blurry even though he was really close to me.

"Drink." He commanded. Even his voice sounded far away, but I obeyed him anyway.

After a couple more sips of water, everything was becoming clearer and I could clearly see the scowling look Rick had on his face as he looked at me.

"What's up Doc?" I smiled and took the bottle water from his hand so I could take more drinks.

"Don't what's up Doc me. What the fuck were you doing just now?"

"Training?" I came to boxing lessons Monday through Friday. The girls and I. Not to fight competitively or anything. We started to come so we could learn to fight and now we still came for the workout.

"That was not training, Isabel. That was you killing yourself slowly." He sighed and sat next to me on the bench.

"I can't even tell you why I lost it like that." I had never worked myself so hard that I damn near passed out.

"You let your emotions get the best of you. Boxing is about control, technique and stamina. You can't let your emotions get so overwhelming that it numbs when your body is telling you to stop."

"If you say so."

"I know so, you brat."

I stuck out my tongue at him and he laughed at me.