LORENZO GRAYSON\ VADIM KERZHAKOV ©My fist hit the mamba bag again.And again.Each punch came fast and hard, like I was trying to break something that would not break. The chain above the bag rattled with each hit. Sweat ran down my face, down my neck, and soaked my shirt. My breath came out in short bursts, rough and sharp.Yet, I didn't stop.After a while, my arm began to ache. The wound there pulsed under the bandage. I ignored it and threw one last punch before dropping to the gym mat, lying flat on my back.I stared at the ceiling. Everything was blank and quiet but my life was not.I ran a hand through my damp hair and checked the time.7:25 a.m.I tiredly pushed myself up and walked to the fridge. My body felt heavy, but my mind would not slow down. I grabbed a bottle of water and drank it in one long gulp.Soft footsteps entered the gym, careful and almost silent, like the person did not want to be noticed.“Good morning to you too, Kyle,” I said while turning around. The m
Last Updated : 2026-05-08 Read more