Rosy gave another swift hit to the punching bag, through a series of jabs and uppercuts she left her hands a trembling and numb mess. It wasn’t healthy, none of it ever was. She was out here for too long, senselessly delivering blows to sack of sand. It’s been monotonous hours of doing the exact same thing. Her knuckles were washed over with a dull aching pain. Rosy was tense and nervous, oh how she knew that she was tense and nervous.
Someone had been stalking her, but that's not what scared Rosy. What scared her was the fact that this person had covered any minor inconvenience Rosy might have had. The crate of groceries on her kitchen counter when she had supposedly run out food in the fridge, the pain medication that mysteriously appeared the next day when she had run out of them, the most terrifying incident happened when she had woken up early and saw a shadowy figure in the hallway. One baseball bat retrieval later, and the figure was gone, leaving behind a pair of bright brand new orange boxing gloves.
It pissed her off. Reporting it to the police wasn’t futile however, it had actually helped. The police had said that there was indeed a suspicious individual around her area of residence. To her, fear was a form of exhilaration, anxiety was excitement, adrenaline was a sort of steroid to boost her performance. This type of fear was different, she couldn’t hone this for anything.
How could she apply this energy into something that could help? Punching the bag wasn’t working. It was making things worse.
A long steady ring was emanating from her duffel bag. Tearing herself away from the bag, she inched to her phone. Maybe it would shut up already? But it didn’t shut up, it still rang, announcing its presence throughout the empty boxing school. With a sigh of frustration she coughed to keep her voice steady and undid the gloves cushioning her tense hand. She crouched to open her bag, amidst the water bottles, jump rope, tiger balm, and protein bars, was the perpetrator. With jittery fingers, she swiped at her phone, and pressed it to her ear.
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A hoarse voice is what came out of her throat.
“Who is it”
“Hey Rosy it’s me”
A small breath of relief escaped her mouth, but just barely.
“Carol, whats up”
“Are you doing anything lately”? Said a honeyed voice from the phone
Rosy eased onto the padded floor, and sifted back her hair.
“No- not really, you doing anything”?
“No, just wanted to talk, hope that you're alright, you sound sick? Are you in bed”?
“Nice to be bombarded with-”
“Alright! Alright! Just asking, look, I’m only concerned okay. You’ve been fidgety late-”
“Fidgety”? Rosy deadpanned.
“Yes. Fidgety. You’ve been so… I dunno, different” Carol paused, awaiting a response.
“Im fine, Im fine, jeez, I'm actually about to go somewhere wanna tag along”
A small pause of silence, a crackle of static and then
“Why not”?