White Wide World

Silent World

My fists hit the bag, creating a steady pace. I lose myself in the rhythm as I've done so many times over the years. The sweat is running down my back, leaving my shirt soaked. My hair is falling in my face and I feel the sweat running from my hair line and down over my brow. I've been training for so long, my muscles are aching and my feet are numb.

Then I finally give myself a break. I collapse on one of the wooden benches. My chest is heaving as I try to catch my breath. I reach over and open my water bottle but I don't drink it, I pour half of it over my head before I take a sip from it. I lean against the white-painted brick wall, as I enjoy the feeling of my heart racing in my chest. I love the feeling of my energy being drained. From my half-closed eyes I can see a figure standing in front of me. I feel my body itching with irritation. Who would be so damn stupid to confront me here of all places?

I open my eyes to look up at the person, but I don't really have to look up that much. All irritation drains from my body when I see a pair of grey eyes looking back at me. A kid, about the age of 13 is staring back at me with utmost seriousness. His face is set in a frown and his hands are stuffed deep into his dark grey sweatpants. I take a good look at those grey eyes that look strikingly like mine. I see awe and respect shining from his grey eyes. Still, the owner of the grey eyes decides to give me a piece of attitude. He narrows his eyes at me and raises an eye brow, typical of the young boys around here. They're all so goddam cocky. A smirk spreads across my face—just like me, or at least, just like I was. I remember being 13 years old, thinking I owned the whole god damn world. I just got a wakeup call every time I came home. This one just looks like he has the world to roam around in without anyone to tell him no. I peal the white bandages off my hands and throw them on the ground with an angry movement.

"You really shouldn't do that, you only borrowed the earth from me." This kid is a fucking smartass. I narrow my eyes at him and cross my arms over my chest.

"That's a fucked up argument. No one gives shit about stuff they borrow." I run a hand through my wet hair and get to my feet, quickly towering over the kid. I take a few steps towards him making him back up. I feel like I can finally breathe when that kid is out of my personal space. It gives me the creeps when somebody gets in my personal space. When I move to take a step around him, he steps into my way. I feel my temper rise drastically at the gesture. Who the fuck do he think he is? He's just some whelp who's still wet behind the ears. I have to push myself to calm down even though it's so difficult for me.

"You better move, kid," I growl warningly at him in my deep baritone. He shifts on his feet and moves a little so I can make my way past him. I walk confidently past him, not caring that I almost knock him over with my shoulder. I walk over to the speed bag and start hitting it lightly but quickly with perfect precision. One, two, one, two, I repeat it over and over again, one, two, with each hand. I quickly go back into my trance, but this time I move quicker on my feet than with the heavy bag. As I get into the rhythm I change it up, and throw in a round kick.

"I saw you, at the underground fight." An annoyingly uncertain voice reaches my ears. I stop hitting the speed bag and turn to see the kid staring at me hesitantly. I've no idea what to answer. I mean, a lot of people saw me at the underground fight, that's the point. So I just settle on shrugging. I turn back to the speed bag and just as I'm about to hit it the same annoying voice reaches my ear.

"You smashed him. When I first saw you, I thought he would smash you." I roll my eyes at the statement, of course he thought the bigger one would win. Typical.

"Then you're lucky you didn't have to fight; I would have taken you down with one strike." I cut the kid's rambling off as quickly as possible. Young, ignorant kids like him should get a few bashes on side of the head every now and then; if he did he might start using it. A third time I try to get back to my training, but again he interrupts me: