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"What?!" I screeched. There's no way I heard him correctly.

"I said pack your things because you're moving back home. Don't make me say it again." dad replies with slightly narrowed eyes and annoyed voice.

I shake my head. "No, I'm not moving back to Missoula. This is my home now. I mean, I can't go back... Sonia, did you know about this?" I ask my aunt, who still refuses to look at me.

Dad sighs. "She said that these last days you've been vomiting and crying and that she thinks going back to Missoula might help you get better, you know because of Gemma and Liam." dad explains.

I can't believe this. "It was your idea?" I exclaim, standing up. "How could you? Don't you want me here with you anymore?"

Sonia finally looks at me, apologetic expression on her face. "I didn't know you'd react like this, I honestly thought you'd like to move back home."

"No! This is my home now, with you." I try to argue but it's clear on my dad's face that he's already decided and there's no chance I'm getting out of this.

"Look, Sophie, I love you and I'm not trying to get rid of you." Sonia tells me and starts taking steps towards me. "I know this is good for you, and these last few days have been kind of exhausting for me. Please tell me that you understand."

Wow. So I've become a burden for her.

I want to be mad at her, I want to scream and shout at her, but I understand it. Having a teenage girl with major love problems, vomiting and crying all day in your house does probably get exhausting.

Besides, I told her I'd stay with her till my life gets back in track, not forever.

I nod slightly, looking at the ground. "It's okay. I get it. I need to enroll back into my school and everything."

"I already took care of that. You don't have to attend your junior year here anymore because it's basically finished and you passed your math test. Everything's taken care of, just get your things and we can go." he explains and I nod. I probably should've been happier that I passed but I don't really care about school that much at the moment.

"And Wolfie? You guys okay with him living in our house?" I ask and mum starts nodding immediately while dad gets a disgusted look on his face.

"We'll build him a fence around the house and a doghouse." he declares and I nod. I expected the answer.

It's not like I won't let him into the house everytime I'm alone.

"Okay, I'll just go pack then." I say, pushing through them to get upstairs while looking at the ground.

Before I know it, I'm in the car, driving back home, tummy filled with nervous butterflies.

Harry's POV

"Come on, boy, hit it harder!" the dick, whose name I learned is Arnold McCauley shouts at me for the third time in a minute and I swear I'll stop punching the bag and start punching his fucking ass if he doesn't stop soon.

"I'm hitting it as fucking fast and as fucking hard as I fucking can! I woke up half an hour ago and my muscles hurt like a bitch. I don't give a fuck who you are, if you don't stop shouting at me I will start punching your fucking ass!" I shout at him, rage and annoyance cursing through my veins.

He frowns at me. "I'm doing you a favour. You need to get more muscles and you need to get them fast, do you hear me? Shout at me again and I'll leave you here to train on your own."

He shuts me up, but I don't stop the glare I'm giving him.

He's doing you a favour. He's doing you a favour. He's doing you a fucking favour.

I turn back to the bag and continue punching it, imagining it's Arnold in my mind.

"The judges are coming in two weeks to see if you're suitable for WBA. By then, you need twice the amount of muscles if you want them to even consider letting you in. They might be my friends, but that doesn't mean they'll let you in just like that." he explains and watches me punch the bag.

"I still don't get it why you're doing this to me." I breathe out, my breathing harsh and rapid.

I can see him sigh and sit down in the corner of my eye. "Doesn't matter. Just keep on punching the damned thing."

And that's what I do. I spend half the day in that fucking gym, only going out to eat lunch and then returning back. My limbs feel as sore as they've never been before, but somehow I find strength to carry on inside me.

There's a small fucking part of me that keeps telling me that if I make it into the league, I might possibly fight on television one day.

If one day, my fight is streamed on television, I might get recognition.

If I get recognition, one day, she might notice me in the press or in the media and maybe want me back.

Everytime my thoughts take me into that direction, I get pissed off at myself, and say that I'm doing this only for myself, even though god knows that's not fucking true.

Ever since the day I met her, everything I did was for her.

There's another problem that's been bugging the shit out of me. If I do get into the league and on the television and stuff, the gang will have no fucking problem finding me.

Even worse, what if the police finds evidence that I killed Grayson? Then what?

Unless Arnold has even more connections and is actually willing to help the fucked-up loser and criminal that I am, I don't see a way out the fucking jail.

And I can't go back to jail. I can't.

I exhale and punch the bag with even more strength than before, letting out my frustrations.

"Come on, boy, let's go lift some weights." Arnold declares and pulls me away from the bag and pushes me in the direction of the heavy weights in the corner of the gym.

Fuck my life.


Love, P.💖

Next update tomorrow❤

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