I turn my head, his sharp profile in view. Up close, this man is even more exquisite. “I’m just not a fan of who I’ve been become.”
“Then change.” His sternness catches me off guard. As if he’s talking about someone other than me.Tosomeone. The harsh stressed lines at the corners of his eyes are telling.
I want to change. I do. To erase all the negativity within. It swirls and swirls but never escapes.
I pay him another glance. “Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”
His body stiffens and his shoulders grow harder than they naturally are. He walks a few steps out of reach. “He won’t be bothering you again.”
A calmness sets over me. “Thank you.” I am thankful he stepped in. Honestly, this is the most I’ve spoken about my inner battle in trying to find myself. Sure, me and Tequila reminisce about the trauma but never like this.
Saying it aloud makes it real. And making it real is admitting it exists.
He hangs back, waiting.
“You don’t have to stay. I just live across the—”
“I know where you live.”
So, he was following me before.
As I cross the non-busy street to my building door, I cast a glance over my shoulder. His harsh, yet soft eyes watch me back.
Tearing away, I head up to my apartment, and inside. Then I quickly peer out my window, but he’s already gone.
ELEVEN
Danika
The Steel Valley Chain’s gym has been my safe place lately. With the early morning sessions I give myself, it’s been both a mental and physical addiction. Honestly, Tank trusting me with a spare key is crazy. I wasn’t going to accept such a generous offer, but he insisted and I’m glad I decided to take it, because being here is part of my healing journey. Although, with the security cameras surrounding this place, I can see why he doesn’t have to worry about me doing anything suspicious.
It’s six am and freezing but I want to do this. After the other day with the incident in front of the diner, I’ve been itching for a stress relief. There is a brief second when I thought about yoga and revisiting the art that used to give me such calmness over my mind. Over my body. But there’s something holding me back. I’m angry about it. Which hurts my heart in the process. It’s another thing he stole from me. Stripped me of.
So this will have to do for now.
With each closed fist to the punching bag, they roar out in pain down both arms.
Punch.
Punch.
Punch.
Kick.
Punch.
Sweat drips down my forehead as my body heats underneath my sweatshirt. My ponytail swings with every force and every blow.
I pause catching my breath for only half a minute before starting again. And again. And again. Right punch. Left punch.My deep scream echoes off the soaring ceilings and along the walls I let out with every hit.
“Little rabbit.”
Punch.
“You’re mine.”
Punch.
