Punching Bag Synonym Novels & Stories

She made a perfect fist. "Okay, now I want you to shoot a straight punch into the center of the bag. Very carefully. Don't use too much power." She punched the bag and threw a smile at me. It was a light punch but she hit it in the middle like I instructed. "Very good. Now, I want you to do it again. This time, a little more energy." She punched and punched again. Each punch with a stronger impact on the bag than the one before. I was rather impressed when she swayed the seventy pound bag around a bit.

Don’t be a damsel in distress. *PUNCH* Don’t let them see you cry. *PUNCH* Stick to your guns. *KICK* Fuck Malachy and that bitch, Mirabella. * PUNCH *PUNCH *PUNCH Fuck everyone! *KICK *KICK *KICK *KICK *KICK*

“You are not a slug, and it we’re not necessarily training, just using the punching bag for what it is made for.” He held his hand out palm up, and I gently placed mine within his. He slid my wedding ring from my finger, studying it for a long moment before placing it into his pocket without a word. He wrapped both of my hands up silently before double checking his work. “I’m going to stand behind the bag and talk you through it,” his fingertips coupled mine as we walked towards the hanging bag. “There is no wrong way to punch the bag, as long as you aren’t hurting yourself.”

KLAUS POV The thud of my fists hitting the punching bag echoed in the gym, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the storm in my head. My knuckles were raw, the chain holding the dummy creaking under the pressure of every blow. I punched harder, wanting the physical pain to match the mess inside me. Another hit. The chain snapped, and the dummy crashed to the floor. There was a cough behind me. I turned to see Raymond leaning against the wall, a smirk on his face.

JAYSON Left. Right Right. Right. Left. I punch the bag with all the force I can muster. The more I punch, the angrier I feel. "Humph........Humph.......Hmmmuph" My gloves slam into the bag. One after the other I punch faster and faster. Stronger and stronger. "Humph. Humph. Humph. Humph." My exhales turn into screams and growls as I punch the shit out of the bag. It swings violently as I continue to assault it with everything I have. Sweat flies off me. Pouring off my back.

'Why' *punch* Why *punch* Why *punch* " You shouldn't have hurt her like that," My subconscious said and I punched the punching bag with full rage. It's been hours since I am in the gym area and punching a bag continuously. I am venting my whole anger and frustration on this punching bag.

*punch* *punch* His death should be the cruellest death in this history. I want to give him that. *punch* *punch* *punch* I will give him the most painful death. I WILL! *hard punch* *bag torn and sand fell with a 'whoof' sound* Yes! Just like this bag, you will fall on my mother's feet, lifeless! I promised that faceless monster in my imagination. I sighed and removed the layer hanging and replaced it with a new bag and continued to work out my anger. While I was at the verge of breaking the fifth bag, The door to my small gym slammed opened and my mom sighed in relief.

“Blood evidence here. Take a sample for comparison.” The officer turned to look at Mom. “Your son has an injury to the back of his head. How do you explain it?” Mom’s fingers twisted together. “The day before yesterday, he wouldn’t listen and I gave him a push. He bumped into the cabinet. He didn’t cry or say it hurt at the time. I thought he was fine.” Dad struggled against the restraints on the coffee table. “He has congenital analgesia! He can’t feel pain! Didn’t you know that?”

A reminder that my hands were still mine. The heavy bag hung where it always had, swaying slightly in the morning breeze. I stared at it for a long second before stepping forward. First punch landed clean. Second one didn’t. I adjusted my stance and tried again. There was a rhythm to hitting something that hit back. Even when it didn’t move. Especially when it didn’t move. The bag didn’t flinch. Didn’t judge. Didn’t look at me like I was something that might break if handled wrong. It just absorbed. I liked that.

Hard ones that convulse the chains suspending the bag in the air and… “A little more of that, and you’ll be the first person to rip a punching bag from its hinges with their bare hands, champ,” someone says from behind me, spilling my thoughts, but what causes me to stop and turn is that I didn’t even hear them come up to me.