"Ugh!!" Kicking and punching the punching bag, harder and harsher every time. Releasing my anger. Ignoring the pain and wounds that I got from pushing myself to the limit.
"Myra, stop. You've been doing this for a few days now. Take a break. No need to push yourself too hard." Jake grabbed my hand, stopping me from punching the almost worn-out bag.
I took a deep breath. Calming myself. It was true. I had been kicking and punching the same punching bag for a few days now without a rest.
"I can't." My other hand formed a fist, I needed this. So much. I needed the extra lessons.
Jake let out a sigh when he heard the stubborn me answering him. Clearly persistent and stubborn enough to continue my training.
"Myra..." He softly called me out before he grabbed my another hand and forced me to look into his eyes.
"What?"
"You can't keep doing this to yourself." His eyes softened as he softly whispered all those words to me.