One two three, one two three.
The sequence of numbers repeated in the Shadowhunter’s head over and over again, each number representing a hit against the punching bag. This usually wasn’t his training time. He was doing this more as a distraction more than anything else. Everything around him seemed to be crumbling apart, day by day. Deep down, he was blaming himself for everything.
     One two three, one two three.
What could I have done better? Why is all of this happening? It wasn’t until he felt a tap on his shoulder that he realized he blacked out for a second, making a serious dent in the punching bag. He looked at the other, breathless as can be and sweaty as he tried his best to smile.
      “...hey.”