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Jimin One-Shot: Pain

Hello, I hope you appreciate this because it took me ages and I stayed up until 4 in the morning last night to finish it. Enjoy!

Sorry if there are a few grammar mistakes, this is not my best work :/

Again. You hit the punch bag again.

And again.

And again.

You just got back from school where you got bullied once again but you weren't the type of girl who sat around and cried.

No.

Instead, you went to the boxing centre near your house and let it all out.

All the pain, all the frustration. It was all too much and sometimes you couldn't handle it.

You'd just stay home and cry, maybe even break a few stuff but most of the time you'd just go to the boxing centre.

Today wasn't any different. You went home and left your bag and immediately left the house and went to your, now, favourite place. The boxing centre.

It brought you so much happiness and relief after a stressful day and everyone present could see that since you always worked out hard on the equipment.

Almost everyone knew who you were. You were one of the few girls that joined the boxing centre so it was pretty easy for the guys to know who you were.

You gave your heart and soul to it, every day. Every single day you would walk in there, smile and wave at the guys, a group of 7-8 older men who you now called your gang and your only family. You considered them more than family mostly because you were always in there working out and you would hang around with them on your breaks.

No one knew that you were bullied though. It's not like they wouldn't care but you just didn't want to put this on them as well. Everyone has their own problems and you didn't want to pester them with yours because it wasn't something you weren't used to.

Only the owner of the boxing centre knew, Jay, and he understood your situation so he let you take out all the frustration here instead of hurting yourself.

There was a time where he had to stop you from actually hurting yourself and that was when you kept punching the punching bag for hours on end until your hands were bleeding and your soul felt numb. Not from the pain on your hands, but from the pain in your heart.

He stopped you because he was watching you intently for a long time and he knew you wanted to collapse but you were still giving your everything punching that bag until you almost got sick of it.

Keyword; almost.

That punching bag was your stress relief, the only friend you really had and you loved it. You loved it because you knew it would always be there.

Like smoking, really. You just need someone to be apathetic and be there for you without bullshitting you and you found it in that same punching bag you got to punch every single day after school.

This time you got to the boxing centre with a scar against your cheek. It wasn't a big one but it was visible for someone who came near you.

As soon as you walked in and the guys waved at you they all did a double take. A couple of them even stopped lifting because they've seen your damaged face.

Shawn, a tall, bold guy with tattoos on his arms, came closer to inspect your face.

"Hey kid, what happened? Did someone do that to you?" Shawn asked suspiciously.