Page 185

She will never know what a punch feels like.

Or a slap.

Thwack.

Thwack.

I will make sure she never feels that fear of someone advancing on you.

The uncertainty of what they are truly capable of.

Thwack.

Thwack.

Thwack.

My chest heaves with each breath and the muscles in my arms and shoulders are beginning to burn. Normally, I would be starting to cool down.

Not this time.

The anger isn’t fucking leaving.

It’s just sitting there.

Heavy.

Ugly.

Useless.

Thwack.

Thwack.

My punches are slower now, lacking the same force as before, my muscles screaming and my knuckles split open, but the anger doesn’t move.

What the hell do I do now?

This has always worked for me before.

“Feeling better, killer?” Jumper asks and I look over at him, catching the bag in my hands as it swings back towards me. He’s leaning his shoulder against the post of the deck, his arms crossed over his chest as he watches me. His eye is starting to turn black and I wince.

“No,” I growl. “It’s not helping.”

He nods, watching me closely. “Because you don’t need the bag.”

“The fuck are you talking about?” I gesture to the bag next to me. “This is how I sort through my shit. Always have.”

“But it’s not working now because it’s not what you need.”

I sigh, shoving my aching hand through my hair. “Okay, asshole. Then, what do I need?”

“Lennon.”

“Motherfucker,” I hiss, taking a step toward him and he arches a brow. “I know that. You all fucking stopped me from going to her, remember?”

“No, you’re not understanding me.”