"You've gotta dance like there's nobody watching,
Love like you'll never be hurt,
Sing like there's nobody listening,
And live like it's heaven on earth."
― William W. Purkey
It was 22.47 (10.47 PM) when Diana reached the gym which meant not a lot of people would be there. Diana dropped her bag in the changing room, not caring where it landed, and strapped on her gloves. She strapped them as hard as she could, knowing that she would be here for a while.
She was angry. And while it was a good and a completely healthy thing to feel and identify, Diana wished she didn't. Being angry meant that when the anger subsided, the only emotions you would be left would be sadness and regret. Those two were the worst emotions to feel out of all of them. She didn't want to regret being angry at her Dad. Neither did she want to feel sad for him. Which was very selfish considering he was her father, and she was aware of that.But being angry meant not paying attention to any of your other emotions than just being angry. Just thinking about every single wrong thing he'd done so she could blame him. And Diana should blame him. Just not for the things she was thinking to hate him. But being angry meant not thinking straight, and she was doing just that.
Taking a glug of her water and pressing play on the music app, Diana made her way towards the punching bag that was in a small-ish room. She forced herself to not think of anything and to clear her mind and began. Imagining an opponent opposite of her, she stood in the stance she'd been taught and took deep breaths. She warmed up by lightly punching the air, doing some short hooks, short uppercuts, and short rights but long jabs, shuffling her feet around, fighting an imaginary opponent, never blinking. When her breathing started to get slightly erratic, she reminded herself to keep breathing through her nose but did not stop.
In.
Out.
Holding her hands high and elbows low, she threw some more punches in the air, imagining it to be somepne she hated.
In.
Out.
Diana forced herself to stop after a few minutes knowing that if she wanted to last, she needed to take it slow. She stood still, calming her madly beating heart. However, it wasn't because of the warm-up she'd just done. It was from the adrenaline and anticipation. She was waiting like a child on Christmas for their presents to punch the bag. To take her anger on it instead of a human. When she knew she was calm enough to not break or strain any of her muscles while boxing, she lowered herself slightly to be in the stance and counted to three in her head.
1
Diana inhaled lightly.
2
She exhaled the puff of breath she was holding.
3
AND GO!
Lunging towards the bag, she hit it the hardest she could, not wasting a second to throw another. On the head of the bag and on the sides of it. Shuffling her feet, she continued her assualt on the bag, taking out all of her anger out on it. Hit after hit until her arms were aching and until she couldn't think straight. She didn't care about how much of her energy was being used and that if she wanted to stay here, she should probably slow down. All common sense had left her the second the first punch had landed on that 60 kg bag (132 lbs). She needed to get her anger out, just not on a person. Anger is a feeling that makes your mouth work faster than your mind. The perfect example being the little conflict Harry and Louis had had.
Diana growled angrily when one of the punches didn't land as hard as she wanted to. She backed up slightly so she was at an arm's distance from the bag and punched the bag thinking of every hateful thing she could think of. The music had faded out to nothing but a light background noise long ago when memories rushed to her head all at once and for a second. She almost lost her balance but composed herself. From the moment her Dad had arrived at home from his wife's funeral, to all the times Leon would degrade her, torture her verbally and then try to "make" it up to her. When she thought of it, Leon and her Dad were quite similar. They both had dark blonde hair, would usually wear suits when going out and they were both narcissists. How convinient, she thought to herself.
The bag was flying wildy around her, the culprit being her punches. This time, she didn't even stop to breathe through her nose, instead continued her assault on the bag, her breathing uneven. But she didn't care at this point. The anger was seeping through her veins as if it had replaced the blood that usually flowed there. Her heart was beating as wild as her punches and her mind was continuing to torture her through the memories. She could feel tears starting to prick behind her eyelids as she relived the awful memories that consumed her and lived rent free in her brain. She let out a shaky breath when she felt an imaginary hand being traced upon her leg just as his had done. She was being forced to relive and run in the maze that was her brain but every time she'd turn in hopes to find out the way out of it, she'd find a dead end which was equivalent to all the awful memories which lived in her head as a housefly who would've flown into somebody's house and decided to live there. Ideally, delightfully and as if it were welcome there, when in all actuality, you wanted to just kill it. But these memories were no houseflies. They were a reminder of what had happened to her and just how fucked up the world was. They were there for a lifetime, and no matter how much she tried, they would always be a part of her. No amount of water, shampoo or body-wash could wash away her feelings or the touch of the hands that would trail on her body almost every night when she had been away.
Diana was well aware of the tears that were trailing down her cheeks at a rapid speed and could've stopped to wipe them off, but they only made her madder. She was mad because why was it all so fucked up? Why was she here crying, in the gym while punching a punching bag while thinking of her narcissistic ex and father when she should be home with a loving father and mother, eating a lovely home meal, or just spending quality time together. Oh, that's right. Because the world was fucked up and bad things happened to good people. Well, bad things happened to everyone, and everyone DID have some good in them, but it felt like whoever had made the world was purposely testing the good people's limits and had given up with the bad ones.
Diana's breathing was laboured and at this point, she was just torturing her lungs and her body. Her arms were still punching and her feet were still shuffling. Tears were running down her eyes, onto her cheeks and she was sure her eyes were puffy and red. Diana emotionally didn't want to stop, but she knew her body shouldn't have to be punished for what she'd been through. Taking a step back, Diana took off her gloves and, once done, slid down the wall and brought up her knees to her face, burying it in her knees, the memories still circling her mind. She tried to calm her breathing only to fail. She picked up her phone, breathing still erratic, as she paused the music. She was exhausted which only resulted her into crying more. Sniffling, she opened her contacts, wondering if she should call anyone or not. Lucy was already troubled, so that was huge no. Her Dad wouldn't give two shits, so he wasn't even anywhere near that list. Her finger hovered above her one newest friend she'd made. Louis. But Diana knew that he would probably be sleeping, so he was immedietly crossed off that list. And Lord knows, poor boy probably needed that sleep.
The memories were still there, torturing her, making it even harder for her to breathe. His hands, lips roaming all around her body as she would force herself to enjoy and tell herself that it was ok. All those harsh words that he would say, making her shrink in her place, letting her know, that he was the one who would control her and that she was his. She tried to compose her breathing, knowing she was on a verge of a panic attack, but the memories and all the shouting and fighting she and her Dad would do wasn't leaving her mind. It was such a jumble of emotions, memories and feelings that she didn't know what to do. It felt like there were walls that were closing in on her lungs and there wasn't any air that she could take in.
Diana took shaky breaths, hands reaching out to her phone before she somehow opened her twitter and somehow managing to compose a tweet that said "Help Me..... Please...."
YOU ARE READING
Forever and always
Fanfiction"I can't promise to fix all your problems, but I promise that you'll never have to face them alone." This book will contain mentions of self-harm, eating disorder and rape. Don't read if you aren't comfy in doing so :)
