The Mafia Leaders Girl

Chapter 5- Again (Edited)

Picture of Troy above^

Jules~

My shift at the diner didn't start until late afternoon so I decided I'd go out for a run before I head down to the underground. I needed to train and I knew Johnny would let me stop by. When I'd called, he said he'd have the gym cleared out for me and once again, I'm reminded of the amount of trust I've put into him.

I could feel last nights adrenaline still coursing through me and I needed to let off some steam. I'd used my free time earlier in the day to pay my rent and get groceries. The rest of the money was put into a growing safety deposit that only I knew about.

Two hours later, I'm stepping back into the apartment with my flask and keys in hand. I set them off to the side as I walk into my bedroom to grab my gym bag, throwing on my hood for cover. Just walking along that area's sidewalk is mere trouble and I couldn't risk being seen.

I had on my black tights and a grey sports bra just beneath my jacket. My hair was thrown back into a messy bun and I made sure to keep my head down as I headed out the door.

Once I've arrived, I walk into the Underground and find the place empty, just as Johnny promised it'd be. Looking around at the stained windows above and down to the dirt lined mats on the floor, it hit me that it was sort of weird to not see this place packed with sleazy, money hungry men. I made my way towards the farthest bench in the back and throw my bag onto it as I turn, heading for the gym speakers.

Plugging my phone in, I turn the volume up as I press play and go to stand in front of the mirrors. Bring Me To Life by Evanescence blasts around me and fills the once quiet space as I begin my stretches.

What can I say? It hyped me up.

As the chorus begins, I've already moved over and am now standing in front of a corner punching bag. My hands come up as I get into my stance, taking a short breath in before I'm attacking it. I'm light on my feet, staying on my toes as I move around the bag. I make sure to keep my hits strong, even, and fast when I make contact.

I'm trying to keep focus on my movements, but when I know I'm in the zone, it's like my body goes on autopilot. I don't feel the sweat on my forearms, the pulsing rhythm in my chest, or the tense aching muscles in my calves. My attention tracks the rapid movement of my thoughts. Back and further back, down to the past.

Why was I dealt a fucked up life? Was I so complicated? It's been 4 years and still, did I live in fear? Even as a changed woman. Am I still that girl who's always been weak and scared of not just everyone else, but of myself as well?

The force of my fists against the weighted bag begin to get stronger with each thought that floods my mind. One after the other. Hit, hit, jab, kick, repeat. I could feel the speed of my body catch on as I duck and maneuver, the frustration propelling me to move.

Don't stop.

I was still that girl who needed someone to save her. Who wanted someone to see how vulnerable she was, hoping they'd give her a hint or a sign that would solve all her problems. Thinking back on it, I guess I'd always wanted a knight in shining armor to swoop in and rescue me. Give me that fairytale that little girls with sad sob stories would live through and at the end would, for once, be happy.

At that, my arm shoots out, aimed towards my next target hit, but stops midway. It hangs there in the air as my chest heaves, my breaths heavy. I can't. I let my head drop as I'm bent down, both hands resting atop my knees while I stare at my shoes.