Chamber of Secrets | Ghost x Reader

Chapter 43 - Vulnerability

As you slam the door of the briefing room closed, the echo of your frustration reverberates through the empty corridor. The meeting had stirred a storm within you, leaving a bitter aftertaste.

Your stomach grumbles in protest, urging you toward the kitchen, but your feet betray you. Instead, they lead you to the training room, the familiar scent of sweat lingering in the airーa stark contrast to the sterile environment of the briefing that felt so suffocating.

You don't bother to strip off your gear as you step inside. Tossing your bag aside, with a fierce determination, you approach the punching bag, the leather cool and unyielding against your touch. You didn't bother with gloves or wraps; the rawness of your emotions required an equally raw outlet.

You start with a flurry of punches, each hitting an eruption of pent-up tension. Your body moves on instinct, muscles straining against the weight of exhaustion that gnaws at you. You breathe heavily, each breath mingling with the sound of your strikesーa rhythmic release as you let anger and frustration pour into your movements.

The fact is, you do fucking care.

Regardless of their opinion of you, your past experiences, or whether they no longer have faith in you. You do give a fuck about them.

You have no control over your heart, which has already decided to love them.

You can't simply declare you don't care and act on it.

For there has always been truth.

From the beginning. Nor is it likely to alter. No matter of what comes next in the future.

Your fist collides once again with the punching bag. Your breath is ragged as you've been doing it for the last few hours. No one from them has checked on you. But then again, if you think about it, why would they check on you?

They never have the responsibility to do so. They only do it because Price said to take care of you even if they don't want to. And now they know, why would they?

You clinched your teeth as you struck the bag over and over. Switching from left to right hand. Then left again before turning right.

The repetitive action started to take its toll on you, but you give a damn. All you want to do, all you need right now is a way to channel your pent-up emotions.

All the feeling you've been holding on to for far too long you don't remember anymore when it's started.

However, you were aware that if you don't do it now, you might end up causing another problem for yourself, which you already have plenty of.

Your stomach rumbles yet again. A reminder that you need to eat to be energised, but you simply ignore it.

What's the point in eating when you're unlikely to join in the next mission?

Thus, you convinced yourself to remain confined to the training room.

You are undoubtedly aware of Price's methods. The man won't take the chance if he has any doubts. That's how it's always been, ever since you two crossed paths.

When the notion occurs to you, the anger that has been gradually fading returns.

You tighten your fist, gathering all of your might in one hand, and strike the punching bag as hard as you can with the last of your force.

The impact caused its body to swing back, and it reappeared.

With laboured breathing and now bloody hands, you catch the punching bag. Holding onto it while allowing your weight to rest on it. And just as you feel yourself nearing the brink of collapse, a presence looms at the edge of your vision.