No Rhythm or Rhyme

The part where things got better and then worse

I went to my first kickboxing lesson with my heart soaring just so I could have it kicked out of the air. The boys around me were already enormous and built. I was small and skinny and they were all staring at me like I was fresh meat. I was terrified my eyes were wide, I was like a deer caught in the headlights and then he walked in, the teacher, he was tall and muscular and he had long black hair in a bun at the nape of his neck. He immediately directed us to a change room and sat down. I went into the change room with the other boys and chose a locker at the back near the bathroom stalls. One of the older boys came up to me glaring, he had a cruel smirk on his face as he picked me up and hung me by my new expensive excersize shirt on my very tall locker. I struggled for a long time until I started yelling and the instructor came and got me down.

It was the first day so we were just doing a few basic moves. He wanted someone to demonstrate on so I was of course the natural choice, my uncle who used to hunt always said "weed the weak out of the pack first", I suppose that's the same method this guy went for. He started just with a few jabs, but he didn't account for my speed and I managed to dodge quite a few before he hit me right in the nose and me and my glass jaw fell like a reed in the wind. When I woke up about a minute later laying in the middle of that mat with a bleeding nose and a headache. That day I decided I was going to be better than any of the guys scraping me off that mat