I couldn't believe how quickly my life had taken a 180-degree turn.
Here I was, joining all sorts of teams, pushing my body to the brink with exercises and warm-ups.
Dad's' determination to make sure I was well-rounded knew no bounds.
Each day felt like a never-ending cycle of grueling training. I was thrown into the world of boxing, taekwondo, and sparring. Basketball was the cherry on top of this relentless training regime.
I found myself drained, both physically and mentally, as the days blurred into one another.
The most excruciating part of it all was the boxing sessions. He didn't hold back, and I couldn't help but feel like he was using this opportunity to release some of his own pent-up frustration towards me.
It often left me breathless, and on particularly brutal days, the sting of blood in my throat as I coughed it up was a reminder of just how hard I was being pushed.
But he didn't seem to care. His only focus was getting me to the point where he could achieve our shared dream.
Day in and day out, I found myself drowning in a sea of torturous sports training throughout the weeks.
His relentless pursuit of excellence seemed to have no end.
The rigors of basketball, boxing, taekwondo, and sparring left my body feeling like it had been through a wringer.
And the force split during taekwondo? I don't want to live anymore!
Each day, as I trudged through the motions, I grew increasingly nauseous, my body rebelling against the onslaught of pain and strain.
Yet, this only seemed to fuel his dedication to push me to the limits of my endurance.
Despite the grueling training schedule my dad had imposed on me—boxing, taekwondo, sparring, and basketball—I found a way to keep my spirits up.
Every day, I made sure to text Estelle. There wasn’t a single day that went by without our conversations, and she always managed to light up my mood, even on the toughest days.
< Hey, how’s the training monster treating you today? > she’d text, and I’d chuckle, grateful for her quirky sense of humor.
< Just your typical day of getting my butt kicked > I’d reply, often adding a dramatic flair. < I think my dad’s trying to turn me into a punching bag. >
Her laughter came through the screen, making the pain of training a little more bearable. < You’ll be a boxing champ in no time! Just don’t let him knock you out! >
But my dad wasn’t just pushing me physically; he was relentless.
If I didn’t cooperate or if I showed any signs of weakness, he’d scold me angrily. “You need to toughen up, Gabriel! No son of mine is going to be soft you fucking idiot!"
I braced myself for another scolding or yet another demand, but instead, he told me that he had signed me up for upcoming competitions.
My heart raced with both fear and anger as he laid out the details.
During preparations, those showering and changing, I headed towards my dorm, thoughts of the competition weighing heavy on my mind.
I was lost in thought, barely noticing the lush green surroundings. As I entered my room, I saw a familiar note on my bed: a message from my girlfriend.
A smile crept across my face as I read the sweet words that lifted my spirits.
But then it all started.
