a/n: sorry it's such a short chapter please don't hate me i'm rather new at this.
There was something intensely satisfying about the dull thud of her punches landing. Nat hit again and again, pouring every last drop of her stress and worry into the blows.
She should be back by now. Tony said it'd only take at max a week. It's been months...
She barely felt the skin over her knuckles rip at impact. She kept hitting. Her hand was numb now. Just barely felt a sensation of distant buzzing in her skin.
She hit the bag again, her skin hitting the warm material.
Her hair.
She threw another punch.
Her eyes.
Another,
Her laugh.
And another.
Her walk.
The bag was slick with the blood from her hand.
Her voice.
The blows should've stung, but she wasn't thinking about them
Her presence.
She let her hand fall at her side and rested her forehead against the punching bag, breathing heavily, each inhale like her chest was going to collapse. But she didn't feel the pain.
