Grant
Wednesday January 15
11:47 PM
I was training. I was always training and it was all her fault. No longer could I sit on the couch with a family sized bag of Cheetos and watch T.V after class everyday, she had made sure of that. Instead I was living off raw fish, rice and protein shakes because of her.
Because of the pretty girl who knocked me on my ass. Twice.
I was getting faster, and stronger and the next time we met…
I stood in the middle of the common room, all alone, pounding a punching bag with bloody fists.
Every punch brought with it an image of Rebecca Baxter, familiarly known as Bex. Her hair, her eyes, the way her lips curled when she laughed with her friends. The way they curled when she stood over me triumphantly. How would they curl when I finally got her under me?
The bag sprung a leak under my fist and I watched the sand pool on the carpet because it was better for my sanity than continuing to picture Bex naked.
I reached for my tape to patch the bag and noticed my hands were shaking. Was I tired enough to sleep without dreams?
I certainly hoped so. I could use a goodnights sleep. And dreams of Bex made me restless and hard and never satisfied me.
I showered quickly, too tired to think of Bex the way I usually did, and crawled into bed with black spots edging out my vision.
"You're going to kill yourself, Man." Jonas said.
"Go to bed." I responded, too tired to fight this fight again.
I fell asleep quickly, and just as quickly, I dreamed of her.