Knockout

I hit the dusty old bag as it dangled from a wooden board. It was always so relaxing to be here. I wipe the bead of sweat off my forehead, pushing a tangled strand of my blonde hair behind my ear. This place was practically my second home.

Boxing is my passion. It’s my element, if you have a creative enough imagination. No matter what, boxing always makes me feel at home. It’s my solutions to all my problems, all the teenage drama most sixteen year old girls have to deal with.

I throw my gym-bag over my shoulder, feeling satisfied with my practice for the day. I close my locker, locking it up before I slowly head outside. I stop, watching a practice match in action. I always enjoyed checking out the competition. I only watched for a few minutes, noticing every detail in their movements.

I walk out into the freezing rain. It was mid-December. Everything was cold and wet, seemingly lifeless at times with this gray time of year. I unlock my car, throwing my bag into the trunk. I quickly run inside of the navy-blue, old, and beat-up truck, eager to feel the heat that it offered. I stayed there for a moment, letting the burning-hot air slowly warm me up.

I switch the gears, slowly rearing out of the parking lot. The rain sounded like hail against my windshield, as I tried my best to see through it. I turn on the radio, in an attempt to drown out the sounds of the hail hitting my truck, probably scratching up the paint even more. My favorite song starts playing, and I quietly sing along.

But, then it happened. The tires on my old truck hit some ice, and I lost control. I grip the steering wheel with all my strength, spinning it crazily in attempts to gain control as I spun around in wide, fatal circles. I screamed at the top of my lungs, as I run off the road. I try desperately to unbuckle my seatbelt, but it was like it was frozen there. I finally come to an end as I crash into something. My windshield breaks, glass sprayed everywhere.

I grope for my cell-phone from where I had thrown it in the seat next to me, trying desperately to call 911. My vision was beginning to blur. Thick and warm red liquid was coming out of the wounds the broken glass of what was once my windshield had made. My fingers were clumsy as they professionally began texting my friends. If anything, they’d help me.

I prayed just before my head began feeling dizzy. My phone fell out of my hands. I fell back on the soft, cushy seats. I was no longer to fight it anymore. This was my end.

♦ ♠ ♥ ♣ ♥ ♠ ♦

I awoke to the bright dawn of another day. At least, I think it’s day.

“Hey, Bambi, how are yah feeling?” A boy asks. He had sandy-blonde hair that was in desperate need of a haircut, and eyes that were a shade of blue that made the sky seem dark. He had fair skin, with bags under his eyes.

“W-who’s Bambi?”

“Oh no.”