“This is a safe place for you to lose control.”She removed the cloth strip from her hand and wrapped it around one of his.
“Please don’t make me do this.”His voice cracked with fear.
She didn’t want to hurt him, but he needed to face his buried emotions, just like he’d been helping her to do.Perhaps then he could finally stop punishing himself.She pulled another strip of cloth down and wrapped it around his other hand.
He looked into her eyes and shook his head.She squeezed his arms and realized he still wore his jacket.“Let’s get this off so you’ll have better movement.”
“I can’t do this, Samantha.”
“You can,” she assured him.
He shook his head again.“I’m not as strong as you.I wasn’t being facetious when I said that last night.”
She shrugged.“It’s my turn to carry you, remember?”
He lifted a cloth-wrapped hand to her cheek.“You didn’t come up here to save me.”
“Maybe I did, though.Perhaps this is all part of some divine plan.”
“I don’t believe in that sort of thing.”
“I don’t either.I know that this has been helping me, though, and I think it will help you too.And since you won’t let me thank you with sexual favors, this is the alternative, I suppose.”
He choked as laughter spilled out of him.At least she’d managed to make him do that.He closed his eyes for a moment, then with a nod, he turned and allowed her to help him remove his jacket.
She set it aside.“That’s the hardest step, and you’ve already conquered it,” she said, repeating his own words back to him.
He laughed again and shook his head.“You are impossible.Do you know that?”
“I’m not even sure that’s a proper insult.”
He breathed out a long sigh, finally giving in.
“Are you ready?”
“No,” he said, closing his eyes.But after a moment, he nodded, and she held the paper up against the bag.He grabbed a few pieces of straw off the floor and stabbed them through the paper into the bag, acting like hooks to anchor it in place.
“I don’t want you that close to my fists.It’s not safe.”
She nodded and took a step back.
He looked at her one more time.“Are you sure you want to be here for this?To bear witness to my emotional downfall?”
“If I leave, who will carry you when you need it?It can’t always be just you, Trent.”
* * *
Trent stared at the portrait of his father.Fear churned in his belly.Not of the man, but of the hatred and grief he’d been holding down for so long.He felt like a hypocrite, but he didn’t want to do this.Didn’t want to face these emotions.He looked at Samantha again.Her beautiful smile held so much encouragement.How could he expect her to face her own hardship, which was surely more difficult than anything he’d ever dealt with, if he wouldn’t face his?
It was time.
Fortifying his determination, he focused on the man’s face—his father’s face—and let everything else fade away.His embarrassment, his self-consciousness, his fear, he let it all go.
He swung, his fist slamming into the bag.He didn’t punch the picture because he wanted to continue to stare into the monster’s eyes and allow his simmering anger to reach a full boil.Each time his fist connected, his hatred grew a little more, until the emotions surged up his throat in an anguished howl.
“You killed her!”he yelled, throwing another punch.“You used her and threw her away like old rubbish, leaving her to raise your child all on her own!”Two more punches.A flood of hot tears streamed down his face.“A mere pittance for you could have saved her!Maggie could have had a mother.I could have had a mother!”He pounded his fist into the portrait over and over again until it was shredded, then leaned in close to the piece that remained.“Why?”
He gasped in a breath and collapsed onto his hands and knees.Sobs racked his body and he struggled to draw breath.Soon, a soft hand rubbed over his back and he was reminded he wasn’t alone, but he didn’t want her to see him this way.He didn’t want anyone to see him this way.Shaking his head, he tried to move away from her, but she only followed.
