"... work harder..."
"... worthless, piece of shit..."
"... you're nothing without your parents..."
The words echoed throughout the boy's head. His angry glare turned away anyone that had approached to help and soon his steps hurried into running, crumpling the failed test and tossing it behind him. Dropping his bag into the backseat, he threw himself behind the wheel and pulled back the gear shift harshly to reverse out of his parking spot at school.
Shrieks could be heard behind him from his sudden turns but James couldn't care less. He only pressed his foot harder against the gas, leaving tire tracks in his wake. He could hear his shrink in his head, telling him to breathe and calm down before he could hurt himself.
"Count to 15, breathe each time you pass a number... that's it..."
James managed to reign in his anger and his speed lowered from 96 to 75 in the next few minutes. Although he was speeding, 75 was pretty damn slow to him. He lived on adrenaline rushes. With a sharp turn and a couple of honks from other drivers, he found himself in front of an old boxing gym, one that his parents didn't know about. He slammed the door of his car before jogging inside.
There was only a couple men inside and the woman behind the counter was absent but James didn't mind. He only continued to make his way to the back where there was a private room in the back, meant to be a locker room but it was demolished only to be built back up without the actual lockers. The only thing inside was an unreliable bench pushed to the far wall of the room and a couple of punching bags beside it and another already dangling from the hook.
Usually he would dress his fists before starting his assault on the bag but this time, James shed his blazer, loosened his tie and threw the first punch. His knuckles stung with pain but he kept going and going. His eyebrows furrowed as he bared his teeth. Finally, his body slumped against the bag holding onto it for support as he dropped to his knees. His knuckles were split and cracked, blood dribbling down his fingers,
Stretching out his hand, he hissed in pain before stumbling over to the joined bathroom. It constantly stunk of mildew and neglect but James powered through the stench and shoved his injured hands underneath the weak faucet. The blood was soon washed away but the scars and scratches were still there.
He shrugged on his blazer again after he threw some water onto his sweaty face and noticed his phone was buzzing with messages from the youngest of their group, Jay.
[MSG:] I'M STUCK IN DETENTION
[MSG:] TELL TAY THAT I CANT COME OVER
[MSG:] OH AND TAY'S SICK BTW SO CAN YOU DROP BY
[MSG:] LIKE GIVE HIM SOUP OR SOMETHINGJay and Taylor were the youngest and stuck to each other whenever the older ones of the group had an event in their year, especially since they were cousins. James was amused at the panic they had between each other and gave a quick reply back.
[MSG:] yeah calm down
[MSG:] i'm stopping by mattie's first
[MSG:] is nate picking you up at detention?No reply. James shrugged it off and figured the boy will call him if he did need a ride. It was a usual occurrence for the older boys to 'mother' the younger ones, understanding that their own parents were barely home to raise them anyway.
Slinging himself into his car once more, he winced as he wrapped his hands around the steering wheel. James's knuckles were still red. He shrugged it off and drove off, driving the familiar route to Mattie's home.
--
He chuckled weakly at his opponent who didn't have anything more than a bruise on his jawline but James was practically bleeding out from his broken nose and split lip. Suddenly, a blow from the other man had James doubling over and had to hold onto the wall as he spat. Blood stained the concrete floor of the parking lot.

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Run
Fiction généraleJay Cook. Taylor Kim. James Parker. Haden Jarr. Yale Matthews. Sean Jinn. Nate Kim. Inseparable from birth, these 7 golden boys were waited on hand and foot and everything else was just given with a pout, a tantrum, or a wink. Life was amazing for t...