Much Needed Release

Vishous

I walked into the gym and for once I was grateful it was empty, I didn’t want anyone around me, no fucking small talk or pretending that I gave a fuck. Everywhere I looked anymore there was someone under foot or too damn close to me.

I scraped a hand through my black curls and let out a deep breath. Space, at one time I had it in spades,that was right before we all converged and parked our asses under one roof. Change, it happened whether you wanted to or not, hell I got that shit, I didn’t survive over three hundreds not getting that one main factor. Still the fact was It didn’t mean I had to like it, I dealt, stood back, observed and waited for the clusterfuck of all these changes to fall out, and there was always some kind of after effect.

I pulled my black T off and dropped it on a weight bench, I wiped my hands down the sides of my shorts and eyed the punching bag. It was mid-afternoon so outdoors was obviously out of the question. I had too much pent up shit rushing through my head to sleep and going out looking for a fight wasn’t an option. Which brought me to the here and now. I had slipped out of bed and pulled on some shorts and Jordans before bailing out of the Pit.

My head rolled tightly around between my too fucking tight shoulders and I stepped up to the bag. With a glance over at the sound system I set up in this bitch it came on and the beats poured through the wide open space and myself.

Every time I closed my eyes to try and fall into that darkness I was assaulted with images and not a fucking one of them clear or pleasant in any damn form. Nightmares I could handle, fuck I’d welcome a lifetime of nights filled with only nightmares. These visions though seeped in and took root in my head and demanded attention, there was no escaping them and not a fucking one had any damn rainbows or mystical unicorns in them.

Blood, pain and betrayal, clogged every portal of my brain and it all was attached to each one of my Brothers and a few of the extras that had crossed my path.

At first I let my lids drop close and gave over to letting all the fucked up shit flooding my brain to flow free and each heavy bass word of the song weaved their way through all the blood, faces and sceen in my head. I drew back and let the blow follow on through, a satisfied grunt followed as the bag bobbed and shook from the force of it and that set it off. I drilled the stationary bag, hit after hit fell easily and came all to easy and I was easily in a flow with the movement of the inanimate object.

The skin covering my shoulder bunched and tightened with every fucking punch of my fist and I breathed heavily through my flaring nostrils already following up with a left hook and swiftly moving out of the way as it weaved towards me.

Being in action felt good, doing something that it took the basic and most ingrained trainings felt even fucking better. Fighting I knew, harsh panting breaths that burned your lungs with strike after strike, sweat pouring from every pore and arms and hands aching from the exertion of the whole dance.

It was an escape, a free pass to say fuck it to all the other shit in my head, for those brief time I gave all that was in me.

I wanted the deep seated pain and burning aches that came afterward and it was that shit that set me apart. It was always a slippery slope that I balanced on, fact is had I not went in with the Brotherhood I knew I’d ended up just as bloodthirsty as the male that fucked the Scribe Virgin and begot my twisted ass.

A male of worth was not something I aspired to, I could give two fucks on it but because of Butch and my Brothers I walked that veiled line. They were my constant that pulled me back from stepping over. Without them the male that held it all in control would not exist.

I finished the bag with a right and backed up to land my hands on my knees and breathing out harshly. My head hung low and I watched as the sweat dripped off my shoulders and splattered on the mat beneath me.

I needed to set up a boxing match with Z, that fucker always gave as good as he got. A wicked grin split my lips as I thought back to the last fight we got into, I left that one dripping in blood. A hoarse chuckle mingled in with the tunes of Tupac’s ‘Gansta Party’.

I pushed up off my knees and stretched my arms out long and hard over my head, feeling every fucking snap, pop and ache in my worked out muscles. “Almost as good as a rough and bloody fucking.” I took another step back and snatched up my shirt from the bench, using it to wipe the sweat from my face and neck. A hot shower that would seep into my bones was in order but I wasn’t giving into that need until I got back to the Pit.

The tunes switched off as I walked out the double doors of the gym and my Jordans were soundless as I made my way through the tunnels towards the Pit.