boxer [p.jm] ✔️

1.2

Peyton

It's been a few days since I've been here. I stood in front of the bag, glaring hard at the new guy that decided to steal my bag in the back corner.

I enjoyed it quite a lot back over there. I wouldn't be judged, I could punch in silence, the tingles soothing my muscles.

I could feel eyes training on me, one being Jimin, and the rest is his six other friends that he decided to bring along. This would be extremely awkward.

"Chip," I called over the big guy, watching his muscles pop around as he moved toward me. I watched him from the mirror as he walked around to face me.

"Assistance?"

"Rile me up," I smirk, standing up straighter and facing the still bag. I rub a hand on it, smiling softly as I spoke my next words. "Sorry in advance."

"Going weak for a bag?!", Chip exclaimed, earning a harsh glare from him. He laughed mockingly, stepping to the opposite side of the bag. He pushed it toward me, watching as I stepped back, avoiding it. "Scared, too."

I throw a punch at the bag, earning an approving nod from Chip. I smirked, quickly getting cocky as the tingles erupted at my fingertips.

"You can do better than that," he spat at me, walking around to my side. He leaned down, making sure I didn't turn to look at him. I focused on the bag, watching it slowly swinging. "I've seen cheerleaders hit better than that."

I growled under my breath, throwing five punches to the bag, snapping my head up to Chip. "Cheerleaders are princesses to me."

He gives me a hard look, staring me down as I stared him down. "Prove it."

I threw more punches at the bag, feeling sudden anger coursing through my body. I was surprised, I didn't know where it was coming from.

"Seems like your a princess too," He taunts, walking around me in a circle. "Even your little boyfriends aren't scared."

"Boyfriends," I snort, punching the bag with my right hand, smiling as I heard the perfect sound. I felt the tingles spreading further, relieving the tense muscles I was experiencing. "I'm not a princess."

"Sure act like it," he laughs, his head tilting back as I punched the bag harder than the last time. The one thing I hated being called was a princess, and Chip knew of multiple ways to push it on me. "You could be a princess for your boyfriends."

That hit a spot in my body. I couldn't control myself as I continuously punched the bag, my fingers numb as they continued to hit and bruise the used bag. It was brown, the chains rustling as it moved while I hit my fists against it.

"I bet you wouldn't be able to destroy this bag even if you tried," his last words pushed me over the edge, knowing that I always started off with that goal. Even if I didn't achieve it that day, I knew I would happen eventually.

He stepped back, staring at my machine moving body. He knew how I would react, and he knew exactly when to use it. Once I was in my own zone, he could easily manipulate my mind into thinking those thoughts.

Just when I thought I was done, I started to go again. I would've stopped there, but I forced myself to continue on with this routine. I didn't care that Chip looked a bit worried as I forced my overworked arms to continue.

I saw my vision blurring, my body slumping as I felt my eyes closing slowly. I was jerked away, finding myself staring at my huffing figure in the mirror I was looking at. I took deep breaths, not bothering to acknowledge Chip and his brother, both holding my arms as I turned toward the bag.