Indebted Love

♡ vingt six ♡

The punching bag has suffered abuse a lot more than I could see on the surface. How much more beating did it take before its physical appearance took offense?

I saw Seth pull a string of it, cleaning it up because I'm a lady and the punching bag reflects months of hits from men, and women and it's intimidating to look at.

He comes back with brand new boxing gloves, red ones to match the bag. Finally, after months of practice, I get to try. I'm practically salivating as Seth slips the gloves into my hands, tightens the straps on my wrists, and goes through the basics of the boxing.

"Imagined someone you hate, and punch the bag," Seth instructed, taking a step back. "Remember your position from earlier." He added.

I do as he says, bending my knees and squaring my hands just in front of my face. Engaging my core, I throw a punch, feeling a slight bounce from my knuckles and the bag barely moves an inch.

I pictured my parents first, feelings of resentment boiling from the hidden parts of my heart as I threw a punch and another and another- smiling in satisfaction as the bag shook with violent abrasion.

Timothy comes to mind as I think about Peter. The careless fatherhood and the victimization of Peter, the unfortunate life I live in the whole lot, mother fucking shit!

"Okay Jalah that's enough, you going to hurt yourself. Stop!" Seth grabs me by my waist pulling me away from the bag as my eyes burn with tears and my heart races loudly in my ears.

I wrap my arms around Seth, digging my face in his chest to hide the tears and let everything out, loving the way he holds me tight and secure as I feel every ounce of emotion washing through me.

After a moment to myself, I pull my head out of Seth's embrace, blinking rapidly to get rid of the remaining tears. Because I still had my gains gloves, Seth cups my face and wipes my tears with the pad of his thumb with rare gentleness.

"You okay?" He asks softly.

I nodded as I breathed in and out through my nose, "I'm good. I just think my period is coming soon," I joke but Seth doesn't laugh, not even a little chuckle or smile. "You can keep going. I want to learn how to fight."

The ends of Seth's hair shake as he nods, plastering a thin line on his lips as he turns towards the punching bag, witheringly at torture soon to follow.

The rest of our session was spent correcting my form and giving tips to deliver a stronger blow. My arms and core throb in pain by the time we're done. It's a good kind of pain. My knuckles are bruised and my fingers groan as I move them.

Seth opened the door for me and I slid into the car with a little hiss. He smiles and tells me I did well today, putting the car into drive, and resting his hand on my thigh. He was giving it a lotte squeeze, reassuring and pleasurable to have his hand on me.

"I forgot to tell you," Seth says after a while. "If you're kidnapped or held hostage, exercise or make sure do to a couple of push-ups to keep your strength-"

"There's another chance I'd get kidnapped or held hostage again?" I asked, Seth glancing over to me as we pulled to our driveway.

"Mafia lifestyle almost guarantees it... because you're close to me and Angel." He says, turning off the engine and taking my hands in his. "It's good that you're learning to fight. You'd be less... hurt." His voice sounded far away as we both remembered the remnants of the past- the ambush and danger lurking behind Timothy.

Seth gets out of the car to open my door, making sure to keep me in the warmth of his embrace as I stare at the setting sun behind Angel's mansion.

The house was quiet when we walked in, till we reached Angel's office in the far right of the house, talking in a low voice, on the phone. He switches from speaker to mute when he sees us approach him, standing up, and meets us at his door.