8:32am
"Twenty more." My aunt's boyfriend demands.
I look at him with pleading eyes.
"Do it!" He demands. "Make it one-hundred now!"
I put my palms down on the cold, concrete floor and proceed to do one-hundred push ups.
Every Sunday morning, I have to do this. An intense workout.
I have all these muscles put to no use. It's just for my aunt. She wants her nephew to be healthy and fit for the upcoming family reunion.
She says that lie. I know she justs wants me to create an image for her. That she's an amazing aunt who takes care of her mentally damaged nephew.
Lies.
"Ten laps around the gym!" The evil man barks.
I run around the gym for 30 minutes. Then I do 200 pull ups.
500 sit-ups.
50 squats.
Another 100 push ups.
And 15 more laps around the gym.
"Stop!" He blows his whistle.
I collapse onto the floor. My entire body is slick with sweat. My hair sticks to my sweaty forehead, my orange hoodie sticks to my sweaty torso and my sweatpants stick to my sweaty legs.
Disgusting.
I pant as he orders me to get up. My legs shake and wobble as I walk to the scale.
"Good weight." He nods his head.
He soon measures my biceps and gives me a solid punch to my newly formed abs.
"You're shaping up good, boy!" He laughs haughtily as he slaps my back in approval.
We exit the gym. He climbs into his blue pickup truck while I stand outside and watch him drive away.
I have to walk home.
My body screams in pain as I walk slowly to my aunt's house.
Her house is about 15 miles from this gym. It's going to take all day. Like it always does.
My aunt curses at me when I come home late, but she has yet to know that her boyfriend ditches me after he works me to near death.
I lean against a phone pole to rest my aching legs. My eyes are heavier than the dumbbells I lifted earlier today.
I just want to sleep but my insomnia disagrees.
As I walk home, I wonder what Mark is doing.
Is he okay? The last time we saw each other was during school on Thursday. He gave me back my jacket with a bright smile.
I hope he isn't crying or having a bad day. I want him to stay happy.
I never want the thoughts that torture me to torture him. He deserves the best.
My sore feet stop in front of the hospital. The hospital right down the street from my aunt's shop. The hospital I was treated at. The same day that I finally slept. In Mark's arms, in his warm, comforting arms.
Coincidentally, a very familiar figure walks out of the hospital.
His usual bright smile is replaced with a blank face. He casually walks towards the street, his skip no where in sight. He looks down at the ground as if it's his best friend.
