⇒ 43
Who: Max Guevara and OPEN
What: Beating ... the holy hell out of a punching bag.
When: Late Wednesday night, possibly early Thursday morning.
Where: The Gym
Rating: PG-13
If this week hadn't been crappy enough, her ex had to show up.
It wasn't that Max didn't like Dean. Or that it was even Dean's fault that the castle yanked people back and forth and erased their memories. In fact, she was pretty sure that Dean was probably better off. His life was hard enough as it was. But between people dying, the crap with the jackass from the journal, and Dean showing up again of all times, Max really just wanted to hit things. It was one thing to have an ex. It was another to have an ex that will never remember your relationship. It sucked. So Max reverted to what she knows best.
It's X5 versus Punching Bag, and it's one hundred percent certain that Punching Bag was going down.
She had left the journal in her room because she didn't want to deal with anyone else's crap, and just focus on her own. She'd been at it for an hour at this point, and so far she wasn't feeling any better. She hadn't even started feeling the wear on her shoulders yet, but the punching bag was swinging out a lot further than it had been when she first started. There was sheet rock dust falling down from the clasp with each hit, and eventually she slammed her fist into the bag hard enough that the thing went flying into the nearest wall and slumped to the ground with a groan. Max ran a hand through her hair, and then exhaled with a huff as started to make her way back towards it to hang it up again.
"Great. Just great."
What: Beating ... the holy hell out of a punching bag.
When: Late Wednesday night, possibly early Thursday morning.
Where: The Gym
Rating: PG-13
If this week hadn't been crappy enough, her ex had to show up.
It wasn't that Max didn't like Dean. Or that it was even Dean's fault that the castle yanked people back and forth and erased their memories. In fact, she was pretty sure that Dean was probably better off. His life was hard enough as it was. But between people dying, the crap with the jackass from the journal, and Dean showing up again of all times, Max really just wanted to hit things. It was one thing to have an ex. It was another to have an ex that will never remember your relationship. It sucked. So Max reverted to what she knows best.
It's X5 versus Punching Bag, and it's one hundred percent certain that Punching Bag was going down.
She had left the journal in her room because she didn't want to deal with anyone else's crap, and just focus on her own. She'd been at it for an hour at this point, and so far she wasn't feeling any better. She hadn't even started feeling the wear on her shoulders yet, but the punching bag was swinging out a lot further than it had been when she first started. There was sheet rock dust falling down from the clasp with each hit, and eventually she slammed her fist into the bag hard enough that the thing went flying into the nearest wall and slumped to the ground with a groan. Max ran a hand through her hair, and then exhaled with a huff as started to make her way back towards it to hang it up again.
"Great. Just great."