32

JAXON

PUNCH!

PUNCH!

PUNCH!

PUNCH!

I sent heavy punches at the punching bag, causing it to fly backwards at the weight of my heavy blows. My knuckles were starting to hurt and my wrists were aching so badly, but I wasn't ready to stop punching the bag. All I wanted to do was vent my pent-up anger and frustration into the bag because that was the main reason it was there in the first place. I increased the weight and strength of my punches, delivering heavy blows to the bag. Non-stop.

My jaws were clenched tightly, my teeth grinding against each other, almost like a vein in my neck was about to pop. The sleeveless sweats and shorts I was wearing were drenched in sweat that wouldn't stop trickling down my face, which made it look like I had just stepped out of the shower.

I changed my stance, breathing heavily and giving light wheezes in between, punching the bag again. Each blow is heavier than the last one. At some point, the gloves in my hands tore and I stopped punching, unwrapping