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"Go on, you can get one more rep!" Blake pestered as he watched on as Demi lifted the weights closer to her chest.
Demi had blocked out the low buzz from the rest of the gym and had zoned into his words. Bringing the metal up, she exhaled deeply and repeated the move until her reps were up. Releasing the bar from her grip, the weights went crashing back down to the floor.
"Good effort" Blake praised, "new personal best" he smirked writing it down on the board.
"Thanks" she muttered, wiping her forehead and reaching for her water.
She had been unusually quiet today, no quick remarks, no banter. Her vision was tunneled and she had made it through each set without a struggle.
Slowly, sinking to the floor, Demi sat leant up against the wall.
"What's on your mind?" Blake asked, sitting next to her and offering her gum. Demi placed it onto her mouth before rubbing her face. She sighed with a deep frown, "I'm fine," she gritted her teeth, her eyes fixated on one uneven spot on the floor.
"You're lost in your mind again, come back to me" his voice was calm and steady. He reached out and settled his hand on her knee. She lent into his shoulder as her mind raced and cleared simultaneously.
This was how she felt most of the time.
She could mask how she felt and nobody had a clue what was really going on well everyone but Blake. He could see straight through the facade. See when you spend the best part of five years living with someone and fetching them from dangerous plans gone wrong and spending nights with them as their minds destroy them, you get to know them quite well.
Her mind spun in the 'what ifs' of life: what if everything had worked out, she wouldn't be sat here feeling like a fuck up. She would be following her passions, her goals.
Now, Demi wasn't the sort of person to have one goal or one thing she was particularly interested in or talented with, she was a bit of a jack of all trades but master of none.
Demi had mastered a range of martial arts, earning a black belt in karate during her teens and jiu jitsu this past year along with learning how to box. With each skill she is focused on bettering herself, mentally and physically becoming stronger.
Her childhood dreams included drawing, not painting or sculpting, all she needed was a pencil in her hand and her sketching pad. It's sad to think she hadn't touched a pencil in years, well not to create something worthwhile. It just seemed like a silly, pointless hobby now.
"C'mon get up" Blake's voice sliced through her daze. He rummaged through the locker and chucked her pair of black boxing gloves at her. Holding up the pads, they began sparing. Every bit of frustration came out in jabs, uppercuts and kicks until she felt composed and a smile poked on her lips.
