✧ 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐋𝐘𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐌𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐈 (𝐀𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐍) ✧
When I was six I was kidnapped and taken away from my family for seven months. Thirteen years later and I have little to no memory of who had taken me. Ever since then my father has been severely ov...
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|Chapter 3 | Roses
MY FISTS POUND the bag, over and over again.
Sweat prickles across my brows but I ignore it, pushing my body to its limit and further.
Some stupid workout playlist Alex made for me blares in the background. I never understood people who listened to music while they worked out, but I play it every time nonetheless because I don't want him to think I don't appreciate it.
I used to love music, and the list of things I love are extremely short, not even my so-called parents made it up there.
Music
Violence
Alex
Alcohol
And her...
I scratch the thought from my head before I start going down different paths. Thinking about her makes me angry, and that's the last thing I need right now.
Anger is my default setting. I welcome it and relish in it every time the feeling fills my body, but this time I can't let that happen.
With all the shit me and Alex have been dealing with, all the fuck ups our men have been causing, and our problems with the DeAngelo's the last thing I need is anger, or I'll go on a fucking killing spree.
Which doesn't sound half bad right now.
Moving away from the bag, I grab two, fifty pound kettlebell weights and start to push my body into a vertical pushup position.
My lungs ache and my muscles burn but I don't stop.
Discipline was something my dear old man taught me, and while the scars on my back from his 'lessons' probably weren't necessary, it did teach me to never let up. Physical discipline morphed my current mindset into what it is now, yes to some I might be labeled as a psychopath but they would be wrong;
I'm a fully functioning sociopath. Get it right.
Only when my arms start to shake and I can no longer support my weight, I let my body down from its stance.
