"Oh, no."
Amelia is the first to step into the battered music hall. She immediately starts crying, causing everybody to flood into what looks like the aftermath of a bomb. The walls have been bashed through and you can see the outer walls through holes the size of treadmills. Speaking of treadmills, those are broken beyond repair, their handlebars lying in piles of sand from punctured punching bags. The weights are simply gone, along with the kickpads. Our safe place has been vandalized.
"What are we gonna do?" Asks Charlotte, desperately.
Nobody has an answer for her.
As one, Ash and Sam both start walking towards the remains of the punching bags. Ash nearly stops, but grits their teeth and strides on stubbornly. Ash starts scooping up the sand on the floor and putting it into the most deflated-looking punching bag.
"I'm gonna need some tape." They yell back at us. Connor chucks her a roll of duct tape. I look at him questioningly. "To keep everything in place when I have an obsessive compulsive freak-out." He explains.
Sam starts filling another punching bag with sand and duct taping the slashes closed, too. Ash keeps their eyes firmly on their work but Sam glances over at Ash warily.
Trisha is next to start repairing things. She salvages nails, screws and random bits and pieces from the treadmills that are beyond saving and starts boarding over the holes in the walls.
Gradually, we all set to work.
Miss Heather walks in, gasps and immediately goes to help everybody fix the room up.
By the end of the lesson, all of the punching bags are repaired and the walls boarded up. We bar the door and shove gigantic crates in front of it.
YOU ARE READING
Polarize
General FictionALMOST COMPLETELY DEAD AND WILL PROBABLY NEVER BE CONTINUED The beaten and the broken sometimes want to beat and break something, too. Sometimes it's their enemies and sometimes, it's just a punching bag. A very old story I'm picking up again - b...
