Stained

Chapter 8

"I'm almost done." Hearing his deep voice stops my ascend. "I won't bite Rose." Why does he call me rose? That's not my name.

I slowly turn back around to face him. He's looking at me through thick long lashes that hit his cheeks when he blinks. I walk toward the water fountain but stop when I'm about a metre away from him.

He pauses drinking, licks the water off his lips, then mumbles, "unless you want me to."

I cock my head to the side, confused as to what he's talking about. He smirks, and it hits me all at once. I quickly drop my eyes to the ground before he can see my shocked expression and keep them there, even as I feel his eyes on me.

If only I weren't so thirsty, I would have walked away. But then I'd also be giving him the satisfaction of a reaction, and I'm done doing that.

The water stops after what is actually seconds but feels like hours. When his black converses start to approach me, my eyes automatically elevate from the ground, only to find him staring down at me with cold steel. I feel so tiny and insecure as he looms over me — like a mouse next to my cat.

I move to the side to walk past him, but his arm brushes mine, and I jump from the sudden contact.

Pretending I didn't just flinch away from him, again, I walk to the water fountain and unscrew my water bottle.

I can still feel him here. Why is he still here? His eyes scorch my skin as I place my bottle near the fountain and press the button, yet I don't look up.

He must think I'm a freak for flinching every time he touches me. But it's something I can't control, and frankly, I don't care what he thinks. Or anyone, for that matter. My whole life, everyone has judged me and criticised me, and I'm done caring or bothering. The only person whose opinion or judgement I care about is my mothers.

I finally hear footsteps retreat. I let out a breath I didn't realise I was holding when I don't hear them anymore.

•             •             •

AS SOON AS COLLEGE IS OVER, I'm quick to rush home, without even bothering to say goodbye to my friends. I immediately get into my boxing attire; my black vest, black yoga pants and a grey zip-up jumper. And go to Hunters boxing gym. I've been going here for the past two years, and it's been the best form of therapy. At least it's done more for me than the therapists that left me after two months of working with me.

Today's not a woman's day. It's a mix gender day. I never go on a mixed-gender day. However, I need to punch something, to let it all out, or I'll shatter. I might seem calm and collected on the outside, but on the inside, I'm a bubble waiting to burst. Boxing is my way of letting it all out. Without it, I would go crazy... well, there is another way, but right now, boxing is the best thing to do.

I get there at four. I didn't even bother to eat anything, I just got ready as soon as I got home. But that's normal for me; I tend to forget to eat.

As I sprint up the stairs, I feel my adrenaline kick up a notch each time I get closer to the gym. I'm excited to punch something. To let it all out.

I sign my name on the sheet at the top of the stairs and go through the double doors that lead into the big gym that has a big ceiling to floor-length mirror, across it a ceiling to floor length window with the view of the street and on the sides plain black walls. There are weights, treadmills and all sorts of stuff here, but I never bother with them.

I hesitantly step into the sweaty smelly locker room. The smell bothered me a lot at first, but I've gotten used to it. I get my phone out, put my headphone in and pull them up under my tank top. My yoga pants don't have pockets, and when I put my phone in my jumper, it always falls out, so I put my phone in my yoga pants instead. The yoga pants are tight, so I know my phone won't fall out.

I eagerly put my hand wrap on my hands then pull my hair up into a bun, uncaring if it's messy. Before I leave, I put my bag away into a locker. No one steals anything here, so I'm not worried about my stuff going missing.

I get out of the locker room and go straight to my boxing bag in the corner of the room — It's not my boxing bag, but it's the one I always use. I don't bother looking around me because I know if I look at the males I know are here, I'll get nervous, especially if one of them is looking at me. I guess being blind comes with its perks, for even if I were to accidentally look around, I wouldn't see if they were looking at me or not. So I don't wear my glasses —not that I can whilst boxing.

Once I get to my bag, I start punching and kicking. I punch and kick it soo much that my arms and legs ache, but I don't stop. Can't stop. I need to let it all out, or else I'll combust. I pull down my zipper because I'm sweating and hot. I'm in the corner of the room, so I don't think people will notice me much, never mind my cleavage.

I punch and kick relentlessly. The rattling of the chains that are holding the boxing bag up give me a surge of epinephrine, making me go crazy.

All of a sudden, two big strong hands grip the bag from either side of my head, making me jump and back away into a hard chest.

"Calm down," a deep voice rasps behind me. I turn around, ready to knee whoever came up behind me in the groin, but I don't get the chance to because in the next second, my inner knee is grabbed, and I'm pushed up against the dark wall.

I squeal, grabbing onto muscular arms to stop myself from falling. I'm breathing so hard that my chest rubs against the guys.

I crane my kneck back to see who it is, but when I look into emerald eyes, a gasp tumbles out of my lips.