Perfect Ruin

5. Get Tough

When I push past those front doors, a certain kind of feeling washes over me, settling down like snow on the ground.

    Home.

Funny how I feel that way even though I've never even stepped foot in this place before.

    Gym equipments dot the place, each facing the huge rectangular mirrors that are hung on all four corners of the walls. Blue and black mats lie on the floor beside the huge selection of weights, most of which I doubt I can ever lift. Punching bags line the sides and I notice a few of the guys practicing their punches and jabs on them. The brick walls are spray painted with quotes from famous kick boxers in a graffiti-style, bringing much color into the gym.

    And that's not the best part. Smack right in the centre of the gym is a glorious kickboxing ring, well-padded and elevated high off the ground.

     I walk towards it instinctively, drawn to it as it calls to me silently. My fingers dance over the outer walls, imagining myself in that ring, fists clenched, readying a stance as I face my opponent, the feeling of arrogance and confidence worn as my impenetrable armor.

    "You're already thinking about it, are you?" Jax drawls. I whip my head towards him and find him leaning against the poles, arms folded across his broad chest, a smirk playing on the edge of his lips.

    "About what?" I ask.

    "About being in there." He points to the ring. "How it would make you feel."

    I don't answer him.

    "Trust me, thinking about it is one thing. When you're actually in that ring..." He closes his eyes briefly and whistles lowly. "It's the best damn feeling that you'll ever come across. Take it from me."

    "I don't think I'm fit for this." I gesture to the space. "This is not me."

    "How do you know unless you've tried?" Jax says, sauntering towards me.

    "You don't even know me." Is all I can say.

    "I know you have rage inside of you." He points to my chest. "And I know you can't control it. No matter how much you want to. You need an outlet, princess. And I can help you let that rage out."

    "What if I don't want to?"

    "Then you're lying to yourself," he says. "I see right through you. You want so badly to be a good girl. But at the same time, you want to fight against it. I saw it when you provoked Damien last week and I see it now. You don't fool me. You're not just rain, Sienna. You're a fucking hurricane."

    A hurricane. What an odd thing to call someone.

    But as much as I want to protest, I know Jax isn't wrong. All my life I've been trying to be like Beth, wanting to be good. To follow the rules and norms. But I know no matter how hard I try, I'll always stick out like a sore thumb.

     I was never meant to be good. I was never meant to follow the rules.

    I was meant to shatter them.

    "Don't fight it. Embrace the anger and the rage whirling inside of you. Trust me, you'll feel a lot better."

    "And how am I supposed to do that?" I ask.

    "For one thing, get changed." Jax gestures to the locker rooms. "There's some spare clothes and shoes for you. Tie your hair up too. You don't want greasy hair."

    I gape at him. "You want me to train with you?"

    "Yes. Is that a problem?"

    I cross my arms over my chest and glare at him. "Don't you think you should ask how I feel about this before you order me around like a fucking dog?"