penny.

1 ; power

 Anger is a motherfucker. Nothing more.

I knew I should have stopped training over an hour ago when everyone else left the compound, but I needed to keep going. I needed to feel the pressure of the hard punching bag under my knuckles that were probably already starting to swell. I needed to feel something real. Something physical.

Sweat fell from my temples to my shoulders and down onto the black mat my feet were jumping on. The red bag moved back to the pulse of my punches, always coming back in time for my fist to land another hit. Each connection released the frustration and sadness that had been hovering over me since my father died. It's already been three months and the grey cloud looming above my head still hadn't gone away. Would it ever?

The bag comes back, ready for another punch, this time returning with thick red liquid dripping down the front. I unclenched my fist to inspect my knuckles, and as expected, blood pooled on the five bumps and was slowly oozing down my fingers and to the floor.

My cue to stop.

I sigh in annoyance as I sit down on the bench to the left of the punching bag and take out my wrap from the black duffel on the floor. This was healthy, right? I mean, channeling my anger into something productive instead of getting plastered every night, right?

"Isa, you good?"

I twist my head around to see Jay, my childhood best friend leaning against the wall by the hanging bag. I nodded my head in response and continue to clean and wrap my knuckles.

"It's been three months, we got back at the Kings," He had walked over to me now, his hand tilted my chin up to meet his hazel eyes, "I know this sucks, but we need to stop doing this. It's not healthy. Your going away party is tonight! Get excited!" He was referring to our rival gang, the Kings, who had murdered my father in cold blood. I could never show them the amount of pain they caused me.

My going away party. Why would I be excited for that? I would still be back all the time, the gang needed me. The only difference this was really making was that I had to transfer to Northview high school, and move out of my childhood home. After Papa died, there was no one left for me to go to except my Tia Adalia. She was rich, and had moved to the white side of town when mom left. She tried to convince her brother, my dad, to leave and live with her, where it was safer, but he refused to leave the gang and his home. I wish he had taken the opportunity. He would still be alive. But the gang was too important to him and Ridgecrest was our home, there was no hesitation in his decision to stay.

In Ridgecrest the gang was the most prominent thing there. Kids got initiated in their freshman year if they wanted to, or in most of our cases, if our parents were already in it. Lo Indomable was the best thing that could have happened to me, though. I met most of my friends through the initiation process when we were all fifteen and the gang had helped me through my father's death, including the revenge against his murderers. The gang wasn't a big deal here, in fact, most people who went to school with us were in it anyways.

We weren't bad kids, though. Of course the gang had its negatives and we had all done the occasional drug deal and all of us knew exactly how to use our weapons that were usually kept on us, minus school time. But, moving to Northview meant so many different things. One, the gang wasn't tolerated there, mostly everyone hated us and thought we were all killers and drug addicts. Two, not to sound rude, but everyone there is white. The occasional tanned skin will poke out, but no one I knew was there. And three, it's my senior year. I mean really, who moves right before their senior year?

"I am excited." I lied as I pulled myself out of my thoughts. "Just needed to release some tension that's all." I smiled up at him before putting the extra wrap back into my duffel and throwing it over my shoulder.