Alone ~ DC Soulmate Book (On Going)(Editing)

Chapter 14 F**k, f**k, F**ker

Note: Freya's age of looks is 25 years of age.
This book will contain age-gaps in it(like most of my books)
Don't forget there's a lot that's not touched on yet in this book.
Please if you don't like big age gaps, don't read or remember that this book has age gaps in it.
This one she's older, but happens to look younger because of reasons not told. Instead of 17 because of my teenage self she's of course now 25 looking. 

I hope you enjoy

Posted on (March 16th, 2026) (2,057)

Chapter 14 F**k, f**k, F**ker

Third person pov.

Exhaling was the easy part, inhaling on the other hand, was not a pleasant recurring experience for Freya. Yet like every other time Freya had lived on this planet, the pain and discomfort was shoved far to the side like it was absolutely nothing and continued on with what needed to be done. And that's a lot. For now it was training with the others for another appearance.

Freya held her phone to her chest tightly as everyone stared her down, waiting for her response.

It wasn't like that at the start, but that was planned. Well not them staring her down like hawks, but the appearance was.

At the start of entering the training room, it was dark and very much empty of life. But she knew that was going to be the case, this was not the time anyone showed up.

Walking deeper into the room, the lights turned on by itself. Bright and almost blinding at the start. The room was very clean, but looked very much used.

The only thing heard was her pitter patter of her feet going to the benches, the clock, and the light noise of the lights. It was annoying to the throb. 

She placed her bag and water bottle down and got straight to her work-out.

First thing she did before she started any kind of hard work-out was start stretching so she didn't mess up her already fucked up sore body.

Of course she was still in pain. When was she not in pain?

A good ten minutes of calm pulling on the muscles causing the right blood flow, she started with a light work-out. Doing ten × ten of each squats, lunges, donkey kicks. She did everything she did when she started her work-outs. It always started light, then it built to be more, exhausting.

With her mind wanting to wander off to thoughts that didn't need to be thought of, she did her best to keep her overloading mind check. She used the work-out as a tracker to keep it controlled, but her mind was the hardest part to control or even keep in check.

Screw the fact that every time she moved it was like she just re-injured herself. Screw the fact that when she inhaled it felt like millions of mini scorching swords that had more than one pointy end, stabbing every part of her body. Screw the fact that one of her ribs is crushed and taking longer to heal then it's supposed to because all that didn't hurt more than what went through her head.

It didn't hurt if she didn't think of it. Any of it.

Another twenty-so minutes of bullshitting her work-out, she got tired of it all, and moved on to a harder work-out.

She needed it to be painful. This pain would be a nice sting than the stabbing throb she woke up to. It would be refreshing to her. This pain would be controlled by her and not by anyone else. Something she doesn't have much of.

The clothes she wore were now drenched and her fists and feet were getting more and more bruised the longer she punched and kicked the black bag. She wanted to stop and leave, but the thing is, she had to wait for at least one of them to come in or at least a peek in and see her training, or at least drinking water.