Fighting Love (on hold)

Chapter 1

Hey lovely cupcakes! So after a lot of kik messages, we came up with our first chapter!:) we hope u enjoy it as much as we enjoy writing it! :)

This book may contain intimate scenes so please kindly leave if u don't like these stuff.

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Pic of Piper to the side>>>>>>> 

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Chapter 1

I never knew I'd hate hospitals so much. People just try to die here. Right now, one of them is my mom. I wish I could talk her out of it. It's not her fault though. Cancer is the one to blame.

I haven't seen my mom's real smile for a long time. Though she tries to pull one everytime she sees me. It doesn't reach her eyes. Cancer got rid of her beautiful face. It's pale white now and full of wrinkles which shouldn't be there. Her rosy cheeks has been replaced by saggy and bony ones. She's underweight now, skin sagging and bones protruding. Her clothes are too big for her. Her ones thick and silky, fiery red hair like mine is now dull and thinning. It freaking hurts to see her like this.

I'm waiting in the waiting area to get called by the doctor and for her results. I'm dreading it like hell. There are other waiting too and some of them are silently sobbing. It's making hard for me it not do the same. I'm trying not to break down. I close my eyes and take deep breaths to distract myself.

After a few minutes, I feel a hand on my shoulder and look up. It's my best friend Cara. Her Barbie blonde hair is in a side braid and her sapphire blue eyes are sad. I don't see her bubbly and cheerful personalty often now. She sits beside me and I lay my head in her shoulder. We've been best friends since first grade and my mom is like her second mom. She's cried a lot too.

The nurse comes out of the doctor's office and announces softly my mom's name, "Sophia Dawson." Cara and I get up from our seats and make our way towards the office. The nurse smiles and we enter, hoping to hear something good.

We sit on the two chairs opposite the doctor who looks up from his computer screen at me and smiles. I can tell it's a sad one. "How are you doing, Piper?" He asks softly. He's been my mom's doctor ever since she had cancer and knows me well. "Plain old me, doc."

"I need you to be as strong as you can, Piper." This means bad news doesn't it? I just nod. What else can I do?

"Your mom has been getting worse. We are doing everything we can but it's not working much. Piper, she has two or three months left."

I feel something cool on my cheeks and realize it's tears. I can't cry now, but it's getting real hard. How am I going to live without someone with whom I've been living with all these seventeen year of my life?

After the doctor tells a few more things, we leave the office and go to our mom's cabin. She's asleep. Cara insists on staying here with me but I tell her I have to go somewhere. She hesitantly agrees and leaves. I kiss my mom's forehead and leave the hospital.

I have to get it all out. All the hurt and pain inside. It's the only alternative of crying for me. I need to vent and I know the perfect place to do that.

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As I arrive at the warehouse, I quickly go into the locker room to change my clothes.

I was walking around the neighborhood when I found this warehouse. I was fifteen years old. I'm used to come here whenever I'm mad, upset or to just clear my mind. But right now, I want to break everything. Knowing that your mother has only two or three months left to live is not satisfying.

Tying the shoelaces, I stand up and look in the mirror. My outfit consists of a sport bra, yoga capri pants and Nike sneakers. Pulling my hair into a ponytail along with a headband, I bandage both hands before walking out of the room.

Positioning myself in front of the punching bag, moving my head side to side, as I start concentrating on my punches. I'm letting all out in this punching bag and if I have get to have more strength, I think I'll be buying the warehouse another punching bag.

I punch hate, punch cancer, punch punch punch.

"Hey, hey, hey , slow down." A deep voice says from behind me. I grab the punching bag, stopping it from moving as turn and face the person who interrupted me.

"What?" I spat, bending down and putting my hands on my knees catching my breath.

"Rough day?" The guy asks, giving me a bottle of water.

"You could say that," I answer, taking a swig from the bottle and giving it back to him. I turn around and position myself again. The guy walks in front of the punching bag probably to watch that it doesn't break or fall from the ceiling.

"Your boxing stance and foot placement are wrong," he says.

"Excuse me?"

"Your boxing stance and foot placement are wrong," he repeats.

"How so?" I ask

"It's supposed to determine you're offense, defense and footwork." The guy explains "You throw some good punches but you'll get tired easily. Can I show you, ...?"

"Piper." I say.

"Piper. I'm Christian." he introduces before walking around and standing beside me.

"Your proper boxing stance will give you good reach with both hands without making you reach to land your punches or vunerable to getting pushed of balance," Christian explains, moving behind me.

"Place your feet at a shoulder-width distance from each other and place them along the toe-heel alignment line," I do as he tells me and position myself again.

"Good, now this will help you place your feet correctly." He said, standing like, five feet away from the punching bag.

Fuck punch cancer punch.

"Bent your knees!" He tells me and I oblige, feeling more power in me. I punch harder and add kicks to it.

"Relax your arms!" Christian keeps guiding me until I hear a grunt.

"Fuck!" The guy cursed "Fuck ,fuck, fuck ,fuck," I stop punching and look at the guy who's on the floor, grabbing his baby maker. Christian burst out laughing and I stood there not knowing what to do.

Should I apologize? I mean he was the one in my way.

"Stop laughing you asshole!" He shouts at Christian who's kneeling on the floor, a hand on his stomach and tears at the corners of his eyes. I join him seconds later, still not knowing what to do.

After the laughing died down a little, I notice how hot and good looking the guy I punched is. I mean, he was built. Starting from his chin which rounded manly and so were his big broad shoulders. He had a hard chest (I know that because he's standing shirtless) with muscular arms, so strong every girl wanted to be held by them. On his right arm, he had a half sleeve tattoo and I being the nosy person I am, wanted to trail the tattoo. I starred at his exceptionally thin waistline lined by the starting of rock hard abs. His basketball shorts were hung low on his hips, with a great view of his well defined 'V.'

"Done checking me out?" He asked with a playful smirk breaking me out of my trance. Narrowing my eyes at him I turn around before doing something I didn't think I can do to save my life.

I punched him. In. The. Face.

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