He seemed sweet at first but was actually insane, and she was insane for loving him.
His dark, murderous, chaotic lifestyle was a danger to her relatively peaceful, mundane life, but she didn't care. She lived for the frenzied and hectic living. He...
"Come on Raielle, you only have forty more minutes to go." He coached, running along side me. More tears left my eyes as the large number left his mouth. It was now 9 am and we were in Storm's private, homemade working studio that put may small studio gyms to shame, since the crack of dawn. For the past week, he has been waking me up at ungodly hours to train my body, before we start with real combat training. Each step I took added a new batch of fresh water to my eyes, because things that I didn't even know I had ached.
"Storm my legs are burning." I whined as my legs sloppily moved in front each other. I had to hold on the treadmill handles to prevent me from falling and rolling off the moving area. "I don't think I can continue much longer."
"Yes you can." He urged, tryimg to motivate me. His pace was steady and breathing unchanging. This man was born to run because there was no way anyone could be running non stop for an hour without one staggering breath or at least a dribble of sweep.
My lungs were oxygen deprived and felt like they would burst at any given moment. "I can't! I can't Storm I think I'm dying." I wheezed, my already aching legs stung even more. Sweat was rolling down my skin in thick, salty buckets. My clothes and braids, slick with perspiration, clung to my skin like glue. I was sweating like an on duty whore in church.
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I grabbed a nearby towel and tried to pat away to flood on my body. My legs and arms had mini tributaries of sweat.
He scoffed. "You already lasted twenty minutes, forty more minutes is nothing." He said in further encouragement, but the fact that I've been running for twenty minutes straight made me want to give up for more. One should not be running for more than a minute at most. It should illegal. Keep up he said continuing his run. Tears blinded me as I tried my hardest to keep going, but the devil was a liar if he thought I was taking one more step.
I pressed the emergency stop button causing it the instanly pause its movements. "What the hell does lifting, press up, lunged, running and all the other shit you make me do have to do with fighting anyways?" I exclaimed breathlessly, bending down to hold onto my knees to catch my breath. "I'm just trying to learn to professionally whoop ass as I've told you every time you force me to do these detrimental workouts."
He turned his head to look at me as he continuing miling away on the damn treadmill with ease. The fact that he began half an hour earlier that me and his breath was the same pace as when he started, irked me for no rational reason. "I'm trying to strengthen your stamina and enhance you end-"
"Blah blah." I interjected rudely. I went up to his treadmill and pressed tthe pause bottom making it slow down before stopping completely. "When can we do come really fighting?"
He turned his body to face me, giving me his undivided attention. He sighed loudly. "Fighting is not about who throws the first or last pun-" He paused, as he saw my dramatic yawn of boredom. "You know what, your right let's fight."
