FOREWARNING: this chapter contains sensitive + triggering content. if you are unable to handle anything related to suicide I encourage you to skip this chapter as a whole or read no further than Gio's point of view.
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A speaker off to the side played Pop Smoke while I worked on my swing in the batting cages. I stood before Pete adjusting the placement of my arms. He was my ball man for the under flip drill so he waited until I was ready to flip the ball to me. I swung the bat, sending the ball flying to the far right. I quickly got back in position, Pete flipped me another ball, and this time it went soaring to the left. I growled.
To prevent myself from getting frustrated, I rolled my shoulders and popped my neck. Pete sent me another one once I was ready and this time it shot down the center like I wanted, but was too high for my liking. I walked in a circle, shaking my arms to loosen them up.
I'd been in the cages for about thirty minutes to work on my hits. The feel of a bat felt foreign after months of not playing nor practicing. I was in here battling with myself trying to get back to where I used to be as a hitter. I knew it would be a challenge because of my injury — which played a part in how I attacked the ball, but I was going to leave with some sort of achievement. Whether that was knowledge of everything I needed to work on or a few good center ball hits.
