When I push past those front doors, a certain kind of feeling washes over me, settling down like snow on the ground.

    Home.

Funny how I feel that way even though I've never even stepped foot in this place before.

    Gym equipments dot the place, each facing the huge rectangular mirrors that are hung on all four corners of the walls. Blue and black mats lie on the floor beside the huge selection of weights, most of which I doubt I can ever lift. Punching bags line the sides and I notice a few of the guys practicing their punches and jabs on them. The brick walls are spray painted with quotes from famous kick boxers in a graffiti-style, bringing much color into the gym.

    And that's not the best part. Smack right in the centre of the gym is a glorious kickboxing ring, well-padded and elevated high off the ground.

     I walk towards it instinctively, drawn to it as it calls to me silently. My fingers dance over the outer walls, imagining myself in that ring, fists clenched, readying a stance as I face my opponent, the feeling of arrogance and confidence worn as my impenetrable armor.

    "You're already thinking about it, are you?" Jax drawls. I whip my head towards him and find him leaning against the poles, arms folded across his broad chest, a smirk playing on the edge of his lips.

    "About what?" I ask.

    "About being in there." He points to the ring. "How it would make you feel."

    I don't answer him.

    "Trust me, thinking about it is one thing. When you're actually in that ring..." He closes his eyes briefly and whistles lowly. "It's the best damn feeling that you'll ever come across. Take it from me."

    "I don't think I'm fit for this." I gesture to the space. "This is not me."

    "How do you know unless you've tried?" Jax says, sauntering towards me.

    "You don't even know me." Is all I can say.

    "I know you have rage inside of you." He points to my chest. "And I know you can't control it. No matter how much you want to. You need an outlet, princess. And I can help you let that rage out."

    "What if I don't want to?"

    "Then you're lying to yourself," he says. "I see right through you. You want so badly to be a good girl. But at the same time, you want to fight against it. I saw it when you provoked Damien last week and I see it now. You don't fool me. You're not just rain, Sienna. You're a fucking hurricane."

    A hurricane. What an odd thing to call someone.

    But as much as I want to protest, I know Jax isn't wrong. All my life I've been trying to be like Beth, wanting to be good. To follow the rules and norms. But I know no matter how hard I try, I'll always stick out like a sore thumb.

     I was never meant to be good. I was never meant to follow the rules.

    I was meant to shatter them.

    "Don't fight it. Embrace the anger and the rage whirling inside of you. Trust me, you'll feel a lot better."

    "And how am I supposed to do that?" I ask.

    "For one thing, get changed." Jax gestures to the locker rooms. "There's some spare clothes and shoes for you. Tie your hair up too. You don't want greasy hair."

    I gape at him. "You want me to train with you?"

    "Yes. Is that a problem?"

    I cross my arms over my chest and glare at him. "Don't you think you should ask how I feel about this before you order me around like a fucking dog?"

    "Princess," he murmurs, grinning. "I don't even have to ask. You already made your decision the moment you stepped foot in here."

    I want to protest, but I can't. Instead, I make an annoyed sound at the back of my throat and storm straight into the locker room, hating the fact that he's right about me.

* * *

    When I emerge from the locker room, I'm wearing gym attire—a loose pink tank top and black tights with shoes that are one size too big too me. I don't know who these clothes belong to, nor do I want to know. I've also complied with Jax and tied my hair into a high ponytail, and I gotta admit wearing these clothes make me feel like I'm ready for war.

    And I am.

     Just before then, I made the mistake of checking my messages in my phone. I've received a bunch of missed calls from both my parents, some from Beth. Voicemails flood my inbox but I'm not in the mood to listen to them right now. I don't know if I can even stand listening to my parents' voices. But I've scrolled through some of the messages and I can't help but roll my eyes at some of them.

    Sienna, where are you? - Mom

    Come back, please. - Mom

    Where the hell are you? We're worried sick. - Dad

    Running off like that was totally unnecessary. We understand that you're upset but you need to come back and talk to us. We'll sort this out. - Dad

    I snort. What is there to sort out? From what they've told me, they've clearly made up their minds about what is going to happen to them. I really doubt they'll listen to what Beth and I have to say, especially after what I said before I stormed off a few hours ago.

    Please come back, Sienna. We love you. - Mom.

    I know our divorce and me leaving is a big shock to you, but it is to us too. We're trying to figure it out as we go. You can't blame us. - Mom.

   But I can blame you guys for not trying hard enough to save this marriage, I wanted to reply so bad but instead, I lock my phone and throw it inside the locker.

     I'm can't afford to think about this right now. I'm all over the place. What I need right now is to gain back control of my life as it's slowly slipping from my grasp.

    "What took you so long?" Jax calls out to me from the other side of the gym.

     He's lounging over the counter and behind it sits a dark-haired man. He appears to be in his early thirties. He has a bulky form, perhaps even bulkier than Jax, and from the way he lounges in his chair, as if superior to everyone else in this room, I have a feeling he's the owner of this place.

    My eyes find him across the room and I can't help but ogle at him. He has no shirt on and his pants hangs loosely over his hips, giving me a perfect view of his ripped abdomen and his V-line. His hair is tussled and messy and I want nothing more than to run my fingers over them.

    "None of your damn business," I snap at him.

    "Damn," the man said. "You brought in a feisty one."

    I walk over to the both of them. My eyes cut to Jax. "Who is this?"

    "Julian. He owns the place." Jax tells me. "And he's my trainer."

    I stick my hand out to Julian. "Nice to meet you."

    He shakes my hand, his grip strong and hard, and when he withdraws, he leans back against his chair and I feel his eyes staring me down, examining me.

"I rarely have girls in the gym before. I mean, apart from the ones that Jax brings in here to fuck in the locker rooms."

    "Shut up," Jax sneers at Julian.

    "You looking to do some kickboxing, Sienna?" He asks, giving me another glance from head-to-toe. "It seems as if you need it."

    Why does everyone keep saying that? Do I look like a goddamned time ticking bomb?

    "I don't know." I shrug. "I've never even thought about it until today."

    "You should," he says. "You look like you can handle it."

    "I know she can." Jax grins at me. "She's a hurricane, this one."

    "Call me that one more time and I'll hurricane your damn face so hard you wish you didn't save me from Damien last week."

    "Damn," Julian whistles.

    "No offense, princess, but I highly doubt you can land a single punch on me. Though I can't say it wouldn't be fun to see you try," Jax smirks at me.

    "Just. Watch. Me." I grit out.

    "Please don't tell me you're going to fuck this one, Deneris. " He eyes me. "It's a damn shame if you do. Because I like her."

    I cast a glance at Jax. He pretends not to hear Julian and shrugs.

    Julian chuckles in response, then directs what he's about to say to me. "The gym is all yours for today. But if you're set on coming again, we can talk about memberships during your next visit."

    "I'll keep that in mind," I merely say.

    "Come on," Jax rests a hand behind my back and guides me towards the punching bags.

    "Is it true?" I ask him. "About what he said about you fucking girls in the locker rooms? Because I was in there a few minutes ago and I think I understand why there's so many condom wrappers all over the floor."

    He merely chuckles. "You know what they say. You gotta wrap it before you tap it."

    I shudder. "Why in the locker room? Why not be a normal human being and do it in your bedroom or something?"

    "Because guys aren't the only ones who have fantasies." He winks at me. "I merely fulfill what the girls want."

    I point to the ring. "Have you ever done it there...?"

    The perverted smirk on his face is the only answer I need.

    "You're disgusting."

    "Come on. You've called me that before. Be a little more creative." He snorts. When we reach the punching bags, he heads over to the bench, grabs something that looks a lot like tape, and walks back towards me. "Give me your hand."

    "For the last time, I'm not going to marry you. You can't force the damn ring on me, Jax."

    From afar, I hear Julian cough out a laugh.

    Jax doesn't have any of it. Maybe he's not in the mood for jokes right now. "Don't give me that smart mouth now, princess," he says, and then bending down so he's low enough to whisper in my ear. "Not when I want to fuck it so damn bad."

    I gulp.

    "I'm kidding," he says after I don't respond. But something tells me he's not kidding. "Extend your hands for me, princess. Palms up. I'm going to wrap them for you."

    "Why?"

    "Because it increases your punching power and prevents injuries," he tells me. "It's really important that you do it. I don't want you fracturing all your pretty little fingers from punching."

    He pulls the wraps from the ring and extends it long enough to cover both my hands. He loops them through my thumb then drags it away from it, crossing my wrist three times, then a couple more along the palm and through my fingers. He does it to the other hand and when he's done, he backs away from me.

    "Woah," I say, stretching my hands. "It feels weird."

    "You'll get used to it. If it's too tight, let me know. I'll loosen it up for you," he says. "Come here." He motions for me to walk towards the punching bag. He points to it and says, "hit."

    "What?"

    "I said hit," he says again, commanding me. "You have fists. Use it."

    I stare at the punching bag. It can't be that hard can it? I take a deep breath, reel my right fist back and punch.

     A searing pain hits me and I'm sure that if I weren't wearing wraps, my bones would be broken by now. "Fuck!" I scream, recoiling and shaking my hand. "That hurt like a bitch."

    "You're not hitting it right."

    "Well, obviously." I roll my eyes. "You didn't teach me how to do it."

    He sighs, then nudges me away. "Don't loosen your wrist. If you do, you're going to sprain it." He sighs, then nudges me away. He readies himself into a stance, and turns to me briefly before focusing on the punching bag. "You have to hit flush with the knuckles. You want to be landing palm down on the bag just like that." He recoils his arm and drives it forward, sending the punching bag backwards.

    I gape at him, hands braced on my hips, wondering how so much impact can be made with just one solid punch.

    "Now, you try." He steps away for me to take his place. I lift my arms up exactly how he does it,  fists clenched tighter than before, take another deep breath, and punch.

    It hurts a lot less than the first time, but it still stings.

    "Not bad but you gotta give it more power," Jax says. "Hit it like you mean it, princess."

    I does what he says and hit it again.

    The punching bag barely moves an inch.

    What the fuck.

    He sighs. "Come on. That was pathetic."

    "Well, this is my first time trying this shit out. Cut me some damn slack, will you?" I throw a glare at him.

    "No, I won't," he hisses at me. "You're punching it right. All you need is power. Look, the hardest punches are fueled by anger. You need to tap into that shitstorm that's been raging inside of you and unleash it."

    I close my eyes and think about what Jax is saying. I've been shaking with madness ever since I stormed out of the house a few hours ago. It's not the first time I've been this mad, but it's definitely the first time since I'm struggling to contain it. Jax's right; I need an outlet to let all of my emotions out. With the fury bubbling within the depths of me, I can't contain it for long.

    My eyes flutter close again. I ready my fists, locked and loaded, reel my fist back and—

    Hit.

    My fist slams into the punching bag, force and power speeding through my veins, connecting with my knuckles. The punching bag swings back, almost as far back as how Jax did it the first time.

    Jax nods, looking impressed. The gleam in his dark eyes tells me that was exactly what he expected me to do. "Better," he says. "But not good enough. You can do better than that. Come on, Sienna. Dive into that rage and wear it like it's your second fucking skin."

    I listen to him. My breath slows and my mind clears, the fog retreating. I'm falling, lost—lost within the depths of my mind. I tap into my memories, most of them recent. Pictures blur together, visions of my parents—smiling then scowling, happy then angry; my sister—crying, hopeful, jealous, green-eyed monster bitch—

     And then I hit.

    I hit for every time my parents ever fought.

    I hit for every time I'm overshadowed by my sister.

    I hit for every time I've ever had to suppress my anger.

    I hit for every time I feel like I don't belong.

    And I hit for every single time I hit, multiplying the number of times of I've been pulled apart, torn, bent, broken because of everything that's happened, and never put back together again.

    I hit and I hit and I hit and I hit—memories flashing through my eyes like a fast motion picture—my parents, screaming at each other—my sister in tears—my dad telling me that they're separating—my mom says that she's moving—my family, shattered, because of them, of their selfishness and weakness, and I hate them, I hate them so giving up so easily—and I—

Explode.

    With a loud yell, I ram into the punching bag, so fast, so quick, so brutal, that the punching bag itself slides across the room, swinging violently. My eyes widen and my hands drop to my sides as I try to digest what I've just done.

    I turn to Jax, knowing that I'll also see the shocked expression on his face, but all that greets me is a huge smirk.

    "I told you you're a hurricane," he says, looking utterly pleased. I'm trying to breathe, trying to catch my breath, and I have no words to express what just happened before my very eyes.

"Try breathing every few punches so you won't get tired easily. Other than that, you're doing very well. At least for a newbie." He grabs a towel from one of the benches and passes it to me. I take it and wipe the rivulets of sweat pouring down the sides of my face. "So how does it feel? Punching the shit out of that punching bag?"

    I square my shoulders, only to realize that the invisible weight that I've been carrying for such a long time has been reduced. It's such a foreign feeling—not having much weighing me down. I'm determined to get everything off my chest, to lift the last of the burden off my shoulders and to empty the pits of my stomach so I can numb the anger and pain that latch unto my very existence.

    I hand him back the towel and hold his gaze. "It feels phenomenal."

    A beautiful grin creeps on his face—a gesture that makes my heart melt. "Then, what are you waiting for? Hit it again."

    I do what he says.

    I hit.

* * *

    By the time I'm ready to give up the punching bag, it's almost midnight. Despite the handwraps that Jax used on my eyes, my knuckles are bloody and bruised from so much hitting. He says it'll heal though. I just have to put some ice on it and let it heal for the next few days.

    I don't know if I can wait a few days. Tearing down that punching bag was the best worst thing that I've ever done. I don't know how I can feel so...euphoric after performing such a thing. I was high on adrenaline, burning in fuel and fire as my fists repeatedly make contact with the punching bag. I finally unleashed all of that pent up anger and aggression I've been caging in and I've never felt better.

    I'm still reeling from the after effects when I get back home. It's dark, the front porch lights are off, so I'm guessing that everyone is asleep. I quietly tip toe up the stairs and slip into mine and Beth's room, hoping to god she won't wake up because of me.

    A loud buzzing sound emits from my pocket and I nearly jump out of my skin. I slide my phone out of my pocket and roll my eyes when I see Jax's name pop up in a message.

    I'm glad you decided to find your way to the gym tonight. - Jax.

   Thank you for training me. I shoot back. 

    Almost instantaneously, another message pops up on my screen.

  Watching you fight like that was so fucking hot. - Jax

    A small snort comes out of me as I reply back. I'm guessing I'll be in your thoughts when you jerk yourself off tonight?

    Less than a minute later, he replies. Fuck yeah you will. We can sext if you want. Make the experience more worthwhile. - Jax

    In your dreams, Deadbeat.

    Not for long, princess. Not for long. - Jax.

    And that's the end of it.

    "S-Sienna?" I hear Beth's raspy voice and I whip my head around to find her staring at me, wide-eyed and curious from her bed. Her hair is messy and her nose and eyes are red, probably as a result from all the crying.

    "Hey," I throw my phone unto my bed and face her.

    "W-why were you s-smiling?" She asks.

    "Nothing." I lie. "Trevor just sent me a lame joke. It's no big deal."

    Her eyes narrow. "W-where did you go just now? M-mom and dad w-were looking for y-you everywhere."

    "UF gym." The words slip out of my lips before I have a chance to stuff them back in.

    "Universal Fighter's Gym?" She echoes, sitting up from her bed and hugging her knees. "W-why?"

    "Just for fun." I look down, avoiding eye contact with her.

My sister knows what's up though. She knows when I lie. It's a shame I can't tell when she does. That's why she can get away with anything. But then again, there isn't anything for her to get away with. She's the good girl of the family.

    "You w-went to see Jax," she breathes. Of course she would know this. She probably knows more about Jax than Jax knows about himself with the amount of research she's done on him.

    I cannot afford to have this conversation now. I dread it every time the topic turns to Jax. I hate that she's infatuated with him, which makes it even harder to tell her exactly how I feel about him, which is hot and cold at the same time. Right now though, it's leaning towards hot.

"Look, Beth, can we talk about this in the morning or something? I'm exhausted."

    She blinks at me a couple of times. "F-fine. You reek by the w-way." She scrunches up her nose in disgust. "W-what did you do there? W-workout or something?"

    "Something like that," I merely say.

    My vague answer makes Beth frown. I can hear her next question lingering in the air: Are you going to go back?

    I don't say anything as I slip into the bathroom, closing the door behind me.

    Yes. A million times yes.

* * *

A/N: So that was that! CAN U FEEL THE JIENNA CHEMISTRY??? CAN YAAAA?

THEY ARE SO CUTE!!!!!!! I JUST LOVE THEM. IDK I'M AS CONFUSED AS YOU GUYS. IDK WHO TO SHIP ANYMORE.

STAY TUNED FOR MORE JIENNA CHAPTERS COMING SOON. THERE'S GONNA BE A SHITSTORM OF THEM COMING YO WAY

CAN I HEAR YA'LL SAY YASSSSSSS?

See ya'll soon! I would love it if you guys voted for this chapter leave a comment if you liked it or not!

Love ya, baes.

Claudia.