Punching Bag Synonym Novels & Stories

However, instead of exercise equipment, it was filled with an assortment of weapons. As I entered the room, I secured a band around my finger and began striking the punching bag, Ava's words echoing in my thoughts. "I don't want you!". Her voice echoing in my head as I punched the bag again and again. "I don't want you!" I punched the bag as I released my pent-up anger and frustration.

Without hesitation, he shed his coat and gloves, discarding them onto the floor as he strode toward the heavy punching bag. And then, without warning Valerian swung his fist and it came crashing into the bag with brutal force. The chains above it groaned from the impact. But it wasn't enough. He struck again, harder, his breath coming in sharp, uneven bursts. Another punch. Then another. Each blow landed with sickening force and the sound of flesh against leather echoed through the empty gym.

“Thanks, Niko. Today I wanna punch something.” “Girl, you always punch something whenever you visit.” He rolled his eyes. “Go ahead, punch the shit out of all the punching bags.” He declared. “I’ll do just that.” I painfully smiled. The gym was occupied by only three people. Two guys and a girl. They were engrossed in their activities to notice my presence. I put on a pair of red punching gloves and commenced throwing punches at a stuffed, black, leather punching bag. The image of Jake and Linda replayed in my head, fuelling my rage. The rage propelled me to keep throwing punches at the helpless leather bag.

To go beyond enemy lines like she was going to a store to pick up groceries. I wrapped my hands a little too tightly, punching the hell out of the punching bag. It swayed violently from the impact of my punches, and I folded my hands so tightly as if my grip would cut off blood flow. I didn’t feel it. I sent another series of punches at the punching bag. It swayed again, and the chain creaked. My knuckles were burning from impact, and I relished in the pain. It made so much sense. Teresa’s idea didn’t.

~~~Scarlett's Pov I punched the punching bag that hung from the ceiling in the gym. My gloves connecting with the object rapidly, one jab after the other. Sweat beaded at my forehead. My arms felt swore but I didn't care. I swing my leg toward the bag kicking it like my life depended on it. I didn't pay attention to the other pack members around me. I needed to burn some steam and probably to stop think about Julian.

My eyes fix on the heavy bag, hanging there like it’s waiting for me. No gloves. No wraps. I square up, fists clenched tight, and I start throwing punches. Left. Right. Jab. Cross. The sound of my fists slamming into the bag echoes in the stillness, sharp and raw. My knuckles sting almost immediately, but I welcome it. Pain is better than this emptiness. The bourbon still burns in my blood, but it doesn’t slow me down. If anything, it drives me harder. I keep hitting the bag until my breath saws in and out of my lungs and my shoulders burn. Sweat rolls down my spine, mixing with the sting of scraped skin.

*Thud Thud Thud* I kept hitting the new punch bag till it tore again. “Why are these things of low quality?! They keep tearing , that’s why I prefer to use the human body. Get me some morons, especially those that were on duty when that mess happened!” I barked at Beta Connor, collecting and sipping down the new bottle my soldier gave me in a single go before smashing it on the wall again. *Splash splash splash* “Alpha Aiden, these punch bags were designed for mere humans and you are a thousand time stronger than the strongest of wrestlers and boxers…” Beta Connor went on trying to explain the facts that I’m well aware of.

Jake's POV - Harder, Faster, Stronger. My fist collides with the bag once again, the force of the punch sending it flying backwards. Beads of sweat drips down my face and I focus on my breathing, keeping it steady and rhythmic. Each punch I lay into the bag causes one more worry to disappear for a few blissful seconds. Emily's safety, punch. Trevor, punch. Amil, punch. DC Jones, punch. My knuckles sting painfully and I grab the bag with both hands, resting my forehead against the cool surface. My chest is rising heavily up and down and I breathe in deeply, ignoring the aching pain in my arms.

After she was done, she came out and was ready. “First, we are going to start with the basics because you look like you’ve never visited the gym in your life,” I said with an irritated look laced around my face. “Now you’re trying to insult me,” Amber said while putting on a hard scowl. “We’ll start with the punching bag. The punching bag is great for your arm. It’ll help with your agility and your sense of reflex. It will also help in terms of rapid attacks,” I explained. “Watch me and do exactly as I do.”

She lifted up her hand and punched the bag but I didn't feel a single vibration in the bag it's like she just lightly taped on it. I let go of the bag and stood behind her, "I want you to Punch it again and this time make sure the bag moves okay?" She lifted up her fists and punched again but the bag didn't even move an inch. "This bag doesn't move," she said crossing her arms. "Yes it does," I said "No it doesn't," she protested, "you are just saying that to make me feel weak," It does move here let me show you," she moved out of the way and without using all my strength,