she's worse

18

Exhausted.

I felt like every joint in my body was going to fold and I would collapse entirely. Every breath I took was one closer to death and dehydration.

Sorin's idea of a warm up was half an hour of sprinting on the treadmill, and I was so out of shape that by the end, my shins were split, feeling ripped, and burning like I was going to throw up my empty stomach onto the floor.

No.

If I could fight bruised and bloodied in a small cell, I can do this with ease. I asked for this and I wasn't going to back out so quick.

I stood up straight, before letting my legs spread to the sides, going down into a middle split. I hissed at the pulling sensation in my thighs. I pointed my toes and I felt my calves stretch, easing tension from warm up.

I shifted my hips and legs into a right split, keeping my knees as straight as possible as my hands went to the bottom of my foot and my forehead to my knee. I sat up and this time, stretched my back, letting my hands go to the foot behind me. I felt and heard a line of cracks go down.  I shifted into a left splits and redid the stretch, feeling looser and more at ease than before, and even a sense of accomplishment.

"Better than I was expecting for today," Sorin half complimented me as I stood up. "We'll be increasing the sprint time and speed overtime, building endurance." I only nodded at him. He looked over at the weights, and I felt excitement shoot through me.

"Yes. Weights." I blurted out.

"We'll work on arms today. For now, we'll do abs every other day, cardio every day, and we'll do a rest day between after today, and then Wednesday we'll do legs, and do arms again on Friday. Slowly, we'll start getting more aggressive with the schedule." 

It would be nice to ease into working out, but it doesn't have to be slowly. After a week or two, I'll be back to where I was before.

We spent the next hour doing kettle bell swings: four sets of ten reps; barbell curls, four sets of twelve reps; and tricep dips, 4 sets of eighteen reps, before three sets of two hundred punches on the bag.

"Ring?" I asked, and he shook his head, sitting down on the bench.

"No, your arms are going to be pretty sore tomorrow, I don't want to make it worse," he responded running a hand through his sweaty hair before shaking his head.

"Come on, it can't be that bad," I tried convincing him, but he still shook his head no.

"Find someone else." The bastard got up and walked to an open space and began doing crunches, warming up before he used the machine for abs. He paused and looked towards me. "Sit your ass down, we're doing abs everyday, remember?" I rolled my walks and sat down across from him, starting my hundred crunches.

By the time we had finished abs, I was still in a mood because I wanted to go into the ring.

"Next week," Sorin said for the fifth time. Each time he said it, his voice grew more and more frustrated. Maybe I could piss him off and he'll do it. He's not an easy person to convince. It's important to know how he fights if I am going to kill him.

"Fine, I'll find someone from your staff." I turned around and walked away, but he gripped my upper arm.

"They're busy. Plus, I'm not giving up a staff member so you can beat them up." He paused for a second, his forehead knotted up as if he was debating life or death. "Fine, I'll go with you," he sounded more annoyed than before and it took everything in me to not smile.

He's kind of cute when he's pissed off.

No. He's not.

But he is. Nothing wrong in admitting he's a beautiful man.