Never Give Up (Slow Updates)

The Punching Bag

Thump.

One Mississippi.

Thump.

Two Mississippi.

Thump.

Three Mississippi.

Thump.

Four Missi...is..pi.

Serena collapsed onto her knees in front of the large, industrial-sized sand bag, gasping for air. It was suspended by a cold, hard chain, and it had marks and stitches from where it had been beaten up previously. She looked down at her fists to see them caked in dry blood, and winced as she clenched and unclenched her hand, causing pain to shoot through her, turning her bloody knuckles white.

Stupid leather.

Serena had already completed her morning workout of one hundred punches to the large thing. She normally wouldn't have had anything on her mind, except for her workout. But for some reason, her mind didn't want to focus as it normally did, which gave her a slight headache at her temples.

So, she started again.

Serena had begun to punch the bag again with all her might. She had felt her skin rip open on her hands as she harassed it, but she kept going without even worrying about it. She started to sweat, making her already injured fists sting as the salty substance trickled onto her tender skin.

But even after one hundred more attacks to the stupid jumbo bag, her mind still found itself wandering. So, of course, she started it up again, but this time with an even larger headache. Her arms were throbbing, and her head and hands were caked with sweat. Her heart was pounding, as if it wished to flee from her chest and her pain. But Serena kept going, ignoring her aching muscles and sore bones as she continued her assault on the worn leather bag.

Unfortunately for her mind, but fortunately for her body, she had collapsed from complete and utter exhaustion only a few strikes into the third round of her vigorous workout, causing her exposed knees to scrape against the cold, concrete floor. Blood started to leak out of her legs onto the cool ground, staining her torn black shorts in the process. She used the sweat soaked and dirt filled edge of her dark blue tank top to wipe the blood away from her knees and thighs, causing a sharp, stinging pain to hit her nerves. Beads of sweat dripped down the sides of her forehead as she pushed herself up off the ground, and she tasted the salty taste of sweat as it collected in between her lips. She then began her scheduled workout for legs which, of course, consists of one hundred kicks.

But today, she stopped at around fifty. Her left leg hung in the air for a moment, her muscles tense with anticipation, before she slowly losen her muscles and let it fall to the ground, creating a loud sound. The noise echoed throughout the massive, empty training room, as there was no one else that got up as early as Serena did. And she liked it that way.

About six or seven years ago, when she was still a dainty performer that loved the color pink, she would have preferred to be attacked by a swarm of beedrill than vigorously train at 4:30 AM with nobody else around, every single morning. She hated dirty work and couldn't bring herself to run anything longer than a half mile.

However, Serena now took comfort in her intensive morning routine. She would always get up at exactly 3:15AM, followed by a healthy breakfast that consists of oatmeal and fruit. She would then run a 5Km on her favorite treadmill in the training room, which always got her heart pounding faster. Once she got her adrenaline going, she would begin her muscle training, which usually took the longest time, and the most energy. But she liked it that way.

She liked her routine because it had a sense of reliability and security. She always had a schedule to follow and stick to. She knew how precious something was when she could rely on it to stay the same, and not change.

At least that's what she told everyone else.

The truth was that it took her mind off of things. It kept her mind from thinking about things she really didn't want to think about. It kept her mind away from still-sensitive topics. It kept her away from being bombarded with many random and horrible thoughts. With the help of her morning routine, she was able to keep her mind away from the thinkable and the unthinkable. By beginning her day as focused and intentional as she possibly could, she was able to remain focused and intentional throughout the whole day, without unwanted thoughts in her head as a distraction.

And it kept her mind off from... him.

But today her mind was wandering aimlessly, since, for some reason, the tough and muscle building workout was of no help to keep herself focused. But what really stood out to her, and what really didn't help her, was that all she could think of was him.

But then it hit her. Of course she would think about him that day. Every year, on that exact day, she would find it impossible to think of anything other than him. The day it happened.

But she knew the truth. That's why she had to keep the fight alive. Keep the cause alive.

A new sense of passion in her sent her foot rocketing at the punching bag, only for it to break open. Sand was soon spilled, and all over the ground. Serena just sighed.

Not again.