The garden of eden is nothing like the biblical story.
Eden is a grungy abandoned warehouse that smells of blood and cigarettes.
It holds some of the most venomous snakes known to man, snakes that would make even the king cobra shrink in fear.
Harry...
Listen to the song above for an intense experience.
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"Two more hits" my fathers voice roared over the loud slapping of my bandaged fist against the punching mitts.
My muscles ached and my lungs burned as I tried to catch my breath, I had been sparring him for an hour and a half straight, trying to keep my stamina though it shriveled up into nothingness along with my motivation to continue.
The beads of sweat rolled down my neck and dissipated amongst the moisture that collected on my chest in pure exhaustion.
My body trying to keep itself cooled down as I worked and pulled my muscles that haven't fully recovered from the beating I put them through yesterday.
Hitting his left mitt with my right jagged fist into an uppercut I let out a breath of air as my knuckles met the padding.
Forcing myself to punch harder and faster, roaring my hand and hitting him where he least expected it, for an old retired mafia member he was pretty quick to catch my sneaky jabs but not as fast as me.
Hitting his toned side he lets out a grunt in annoyance but yells at me to work harder, I speed up my punches, throwing my body weight into them each time until my fingers go numb.
Throwing my last punch to the side of his face I collapse in exhaustion, my chest rising up and down rapidly, trying to gasp enough air into my lungs each time, yet feeling like it was never enough to soothe the burn the birthed inside of my chest.
"Hydrate, tomorrow we go longer and harder" his voice bellowed out from above me.
Not having enough air in my chest to speak a full sentence I dismiss him with a simple nod of understanding.
As soon as he turns his back to find his way to the gym I can't help but to roll my eyes at him.
I'm sorry I'm only just on the ground in absolute exhaustion on the brink of a heat stroke, I really did try my best today, I gave it my all everyday for the past fifteen years, starting at the small age of eight.
I knew my dad always wanted a son, replacing my dolls with boxing gloves and race cars.
He would even go as far as to ruffle my hair and call me son, but he played it off as a sweet nickname, because I reminded him of the sun.
Absolute bullshit.
Picking myself up from the floor once it felt like my chest could finally expand without a searing pain edged into the fleshy tissue.
