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6~ Demands
The punching bag hanged precariously from the chain attached to the ceiling, it would be no surprise if it fell off from the impact of my punches. The black tank top I was wearing was drenched in sweat that dripped to form a small pool at my feet; my forehead glistened, my hands ached but I was still upset.
Marenda and I vacation had been disturbed by my father's call, it was for an interview with my supposed wife, one that was also good for the image of the company.
My fist flew to the punching bag when I remembered the reason my father gave me, the reason why I was married to someone I didn't love. There was only one person who could make me feel better because this boxing wasn't doing any good and that was my mother.
Jumping into the bathroom adjoined to the gym, I quickly shower
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