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Ramirez Gonzales. My fist smashes into the punching bag. It swings violently and forms a dent where my knuckles land. I leap into the air, delivering a sharp kick that sends it jerking back, only for me to plant my feet and throw another barrage of punches. My fists move so fast they blur, hammering the bag relentlessly. The ache in my hands doesn’t slow me down—it fuels me. Three hours. Three hours, and she’s still in my head, haunting me. Morning, noon, and night, she’s there. I can’t stop thinking about her—how her touch burns into my skin, how her lips feel when they close over mine, how I gave myself to her completely in those stolen moments. She’s everywhere I dare to think about. My shirt is soaked in sweat as I rip off the boxing gloves, tossing them aside and climbing out of th
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