Be careful making wishes in the dark. Can't be sure when they've hit their mark
Sweat dropped down my face as my headphones blasted at full volume. I shot my hand out again and it connected with the punching bag harshly.
And besides in the meantime I'm just dreaming of tearing you apart. I'm in the details with the devil
My muscles were burning intensely from the countless hours that I've been in the gym but it gave me relief. It freed my mind temporarily of...what happened.
It's only been a week but I've been a mess. I couldn't sleep fully, my stomach wasn't strong enough to handle three meals a day, I thought I would have another breakdown. That was until I found a little boxing gym. I came in just to look around but ended up leaving with bruised hands and aching muscles but it felt good.
So I came back the next day with gloves and a purpose. I met the head trainer, Desman, and he offered to train me if I ever needed it.
By the end of the song I was breathing heavily and a walking bucket of sweat. I unwrapped the globe from my hands and pulled my headphones down.
"You're hitting harder." I looked up as Desman climbed out of the ring after sparring with a younger looking guy.
"Guess I'm thinking too much." I shrugged and shoved my shit into the bag.
"I can see you're running from something but instead of running from it, face it while you're hitting. Stare it in the face with each jab you throw."
"I don't think punching my miscarried child in the face is a good idea." His mouth opened slightly but closed as if he was at a lost for words. I smiled weakly and pulled the bag over my shoulder. "Later Des."
"Drop your bag, get your gloves on." I furrowed my eyebrows when he grabbed his own gloves and put them on. He stared at me silently before turning and walking to the ring. "You heard me, let's go."
I rolled my eyes before slipping them on and climbing into the ring after him. "I told you I just wanna use the bag."
"Yeah I remember, hands up."
"What-" I gasped when his gloved hand jabbed forward and hit me square in the nose. Staggering back, I held my face and gaped at him. "Are you crazy?!"
"A little bit, yes. Hands up." He said again while approaching me. I quickly blocked my face just in time for his hand to reach out and hit them. "Good. Now move your feet around, don't stand in one place."
I sighed heavily but listened this time around. He continued to throw jabs, me blocking each one and I was still a little confused on what this whole thing was about. Then he spoke.
"July fourth, two thousand and fifteen." I went to stop but he shook his head and motioned me to keep moving. "We went to get some sparklers because he wanted to play with them." I dodged his hit again. "I looked down for a second to turn the radio, drove off of a cliff and a tree rammed into his side." He stopped his movements and dropped his arms. "My son."
My face must've showed my sadness because he shook his head and turned away. "I blamed myself for years. I should've paid attention, I should've kept my eyes on the road. Then I found this little boxing place."
"Just like I did." I mumbled and leaned against the ropes. "How did you let it go?"
"I didn't." His head raised and he smiled. "I blame myself for the crash but maybe it was his time. He was only four but...maybe it was time for him to go home."
He took in a deep breath before moving back to the center of the ring. "You might blame yourself for weeks, months, or years but you have to know you aren't a perfect human. No one is."
