*Time Skip* (One Week Later)
Alex's (POV)

I stare down at my outstretched hand, watching as Felix wraps my hand with the traditional handwrap that's associated with boxing.

It's basically just a long piece of elastic you wrap your hands with.

He expertly loops it around my thumb, stretching it down across my palm and over my knuckles. He does it a few more times until the one-hundred and eighty inch long handwrap is down to its last inch.

He velcros the end around my wrist, lowering his hands back down to his side.

I flex my hand, looking it over as I try to memorize the confusing wrapping style.

"Now you do the other hand."

I glance over to my right, my eyes landing on Frances. He's leaning against the wall twenty feet away, watching me with a blank face.

I quickly look away as his eyes land on mine, my chest squeezing.

Today is my first day in part two of my training. The part where I actually learn how to box.

Fun times.

Felix hands me another wrap, and I hold it with my already wrapped left hand. Placing it where I remember Felix started on my other hand, I attempt to copy what he did.

I spread my hand out, looping the end with the thumb loop over my thumb. Then I wrap it around my wrist, continuing to wrap the white fabric how I think I remember Felix did.

Felix ends up having to stop me every few minutes to point out where I went wrong. But after five more minutes and two complete do-overs, I finally have both hands firmly wrapped.

I flex them both, feeling the elastic fabric tighten and loosen with each movement.

Frances grunts in approval after quickly looking it over. Then he motions me to follow him.

He walks over to a black heavybag that hangs from the ceiling, positioning himself beside it.

Felix walks over with a pair of dark red bag gloves in his hands, holding them open for me as I slide my hands in.

He ties the ends, stepping over to the back of the room once he's done.

Felix and I haven't really talked much since that time last week when he helped me. Haven't really had the time or energy with Frances's unrelenting exercise plan he's had me on.

Eat, train, eat, train, train, shower, eat, sleep.

You get the idea.

"Punch the bag for three minutes. Then you get a minute break before you start again." Frances suddenly says, absentmindedly flicking his cigar as he looks down at a round stopwatch he's pulled out of nowhere.

I position myself in front of the bag, Frances to my right.

Nervous sweat slides down my back, my heart thumping in my ears.

Why didn't he give me any further instructions? I don't know what I'm doing...not really.

Feeling like if I just stand here any longer without actually doing something I'll get into major trouble. I strike out with my left fist.

It lightly connects with the bag. The only noise being a small jingle from the chain.

I immediately flinch as something suddenly stings my back, my shoulders automatically scrunching together, eyes falling down to the ground.

"What in the world was that!?" Frances yells in my ear, and I shrink up even more.

"I bet you smack flies harder then you just hit that." He continues, and I flinch again as his voice rises.

The whip hits me again on my clothed back. The contact stinging but not actually leaving a mark from what I can tell.

I duck my head further down. But that just seems to make him angrier.

"Listen up." He walks behind me, his voice back to his usual deep steady tone. "I will not stand around and watch you pathetically pat the punching bag."

He smacks my shoulders with the whip again, and I automatically flinch again.

"Straighten those shoulders. And anytime you decide to only halfheartedly do anything, you get a punishment." He states. "And stop the flinching. You're making yourself look weak and pathetic. Like a target." He continues.

"When you're in the ring facing your opponent, you don't show any emotions, any feelings."

"You face him like all this is nothing." He waves his arms around. "You don't back down. And you most definitely do not flinch!" He shouts.

"So as of now. To help discourage anymore of...that." He stops beside me. "You're now being punished anytime you so much as look hesitant to do anything."

I swallow.

He smacks his hand with the whip. "You so much as flinch and you get punished." He straightens. "Do I make myself clear?" He eyes me, waiting for a answer.

I straighten my shoulders, giving him a small nod.

I force myself not to flinch as the whip comes down on my back again, a stinging running over my skin.

"That's not an answer." He roughly says.

Come on Alex. Just do it.

I take a breath, slowly looking up to meet his eyes head on.

"Yes, sir."

He stares at me a second. Then a small smile twitches at the side of his lips. "Now that's more like it." He mumbles.

He walks to my other side.

"Mask those emotions. Build a wall so thick that even I won't be able to read you. Let no one see inside you." He continues. "Because what all these fighters thrive on, what they look for in their opponents."

His head swings back to me. "Is fear."

"You hide your feelings, you make yourself look like nothing in the world bothers you." His eyes harden.

"And I can guarantee you'll make it." He leans forward. "But you already know how to do that, don't you....Alex?"

"You've just gotten so wrapped up in your pain, your sorrow, your past. That it's broken your shield, your mask."

My attention zones in on his voice. My mind unconsciously following each word he says.

Maybe he's right...?

"It's left you bare for everyone to see, to read like a open book." He goes on. "But no. No more will you go on like this. Hide it once again. Bottle it all up." He eyes me once again.

"Be the spy you once were."

My breath catches.

It grows silent for a few minutes. And I go over each word he said, something deep inside of me responding to them.

"Now," He walks back to his original spot. "why don't we get back to business."

He taps my shoulder with the end of the whip. "Keep those shoulders square. Don't hang them down. That just signals defeat."

I eye the bag, raising my fists up to my face.

"Keep your eyes on the bag." He instructs. "No looking around it. And don't focus on any specific spot." He slaps the bag. "You want to pretend this is a person. If you look around him, it blocks off your whole view of him. If you look at one specific spot on him, it helps him know where you're going to punch. Then you also can't keep his body in the picture."

"You want to keep his whole body in your line of sight. And never lose it." He instructs.

"When you throw a punch at the bag, don't throw yourself at it." He holds his hands up to his face, throwing a steady punch at the bag. "Keep your feet firmly on the ground when you punch, and don't throw you shoulders into it. A mistake many make." He jerks his shoulders forward in a attempt to show me what not to do.

"And punch, don't push." He slowly brings his hand out to hit the bag, only it slides against the bag, pushing it. "You want to quickly make contact with the bag. Snap it."

He thinks a second. "There's this old saying that goes, "If you want to know who's hitting the bag correctly, just ask the blind man."

"That's because there's a distinguished sound you want to hear from it. You want the bag to make a snapping SMACK. Not a dull thud." He explains.

"And importantly. Move your feet after each punch. If you're not making an offensive move, you're making a defensive move." He punches the bag again, immediately moving his feet afterwards.

"Keep your distance." He stretches his arms out so they're just touching the bag. "You want to be at arms length at all the times. Move with the bag. Back up when it comes at you and follow it when it swings away."

I ingrain each piece of information down in my brain. Keeping it there for when I need it.

"Never stop punching." He sternly states. "The moment you stop punching,
your opponent starts punching."

"Breath as you're punching. It's not about the power behind each punch." He punches the bag again. "Power comes from good technique, endurance comes from good breathing." He explains.

"You should throw a combination of three to six punches each time, then have a quick two second rest. Then you fire away again. And always be moving."

"Don't drop your hands." He goes on. "Just because you're punching a bag that can't punch back doesn't mean you get to be sloppy about defending yourself. Never let your guard down because that can lead to a bad habit that will end with you getting knocked out in the ring."

"Now," He steps back. "why don't you give it a try and I'll stop yapping."

I step closer, making sure I'm an arms length away.

I hold my hands up to my face, keeping my elbows down to protect my stomach area.

I see Frances glance over me with approval.

Didn't need him to tell me that one.

I quickly punch out, everything he just told me clicking into place. Satisfaction runs through me when I hear a snapping WHACK resound through the air. The bag jerking backwards.

I keep my feet moving after each punch, following the bag that's now swinging from its chain.

I keep my breathing even and steady. My old technique I use for karate automatically switching into gear.

My stamina seems to be holding up longer than what I'd expected. That week of strenuous exercises apparently having done its job of refining what little muscle I had left from....before.

And I guess eating those three meals a day helped too. Because yes, I'm not getting on Frances's bad side ever again if I can help it. So I've been eating all my food for all my meals. No matter how much my stomach complains.

But it's weird. It hasn't really been acting up lately. It's almost like....almost like it's getting....better. As-in normal.

And I guess there's a chance it could be.

Or, it's just the calm before the storm.

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A/N

I'm back!!!....How ya been?

Omg! I can't believe I haven't updated this since like...three months ago. 😱 But don't worry, I feel horrible about it. I told myself when I started writing that I was not going to be one of those authors who takes two months just to publish one chapter.....and now look at me, at what I've become!! Oh the horror. 😭😭

But now I completely understand what those authors meant when they would say they were too busy in the real world to update their book. Because that's been part of the reason why I haven't.

There was also the Wing Awards I was hosting. Then (like I said in some other authors note) I was editing all three of my books. And let me just say.....After The End is now officially edited!🎊🎉🎊🎉 yippie! (It really needed it XD) Though I still need to go over the first couple chapters again because I spotted some errors I need to fix when I was rereading it.

So I started editing it on May, 11. And I finished it on the July, 24.....You do the math 😂

My older sister is getting ready to have her 21st birthday on July, 5. And my other older sister completely surprised us when she got her a puppy. (Let's just say it took a lot of begging from mom lol)

Meet MacGyver!! He's 10 weeks old as of yesterday. A purebred white German Shepherd. 😍😍

We've had him a little over a week now. (And he's already learned sit.)

Okay, so sorry for the short chapter. But I find them easier to write. (it only took me maybe two hours to write this 1,900 word chapter) So that means I can probably have more chapters coming your way this week coming up! (Maybe) I've still got to update my other book.

And yes, I skipped ahead a week. No biggie. (Besides, it's almost time to get interesting here. 😜)

So y'all know the drill!

Vote! Comment! Much appreciated.

Maggy

Edited: 6/27/17