Going toward the patio doors that lead into the kitchen, I slam my flat palms against them, throwing both doors open. I need to find a sanctum; somewhere I can lick my wounds and rediscover the girl who came back to Manhattan – the tough, heartless one. I panic about where to really go to find such a damaging relief. If I go to my room, there’s a chance I’ll be found. If I stay in the kitchen, I’ll be caught. So I start to descend into the gym, knowing that I can work off my frustration against one of the punching bags then I can go on like normal. I can cover my tears with heavy grunts as I smack fist after fist into that red bag. The way I’m feeling right now I’d happily punch until I do damage.
When I hit that bottom step into the gym, I propel myself toward the punching bag, my bare feet pounding on the flooring of the gym, even though the tears still fall, I’m very much encompassed by a wrath of fury so hell-bent on pain that I know I need to work out all my emotions. I waste no time to stake my attack, and I feel the bright burst of pain flare in my knuckles, the throbbing soars up my arms, awakening every other pain receptor except my heart. Without appropriate strapping around my hands or gloves to protect me, I feel every hit, punch, and attack I offer in a bid to flee my own emotions. My pace hardens and becomes a battery of assaults until I feel the pain in my heart flare up and overtake me. I give up quickly, my emotions all too overwhelming and I slide down the punching bag, crumpling beneath it.
How can I be the dangerous catalyst that ruins it all? I’m the fucking cause of every one of mine and Zane’s issue. I am the one to blame for this misery I condemn myself with all too often.
Strong hands grab me fiercely, forcing him to sit up straight, but I need to get away. I want no one to see me like this. When I see the bleary vision of Zane through my water filled eyes, I fight him all the more.
"No!" I shriek, pushing him away harshly. “Let me go!”
“No, Amelia,” he defies me, holding on against all my writhing to get free. He’s not willing to let me go, I can feel it just in the way his hands encase my arms. He wants me to realize that I am not getting away from this ruinous moment we are about to cause. He usually likes to confront things, as do I, but right now, what I’m feeling is not something I want to admit. My harsh tongue will not hold back from revealing everything he has made me feel. “I’m sorry, it meant nothing.”
“No, you don’t get to play with me like that. Sure, what I did last night hurt, but actions hurt just as much as words, you bastardo!” I scream at him, and I see he’s not budging. So instead of struggling with this alone, I decide to tell him what I was telling Lorenzo. “I told Lorenzo to go home, to leave because I don’t love him, and when I push him off you’re all over a girl.” I close my eyes as the images resurface. “You were touching her and kissing her and, God, you watched me while you did it!”
“I was hurting,” he speaks, and I shake him off all the more. “I was lashing out.”
“Well, it fucking worked!” I decide not to hold back anymore. I just need to tell him all the truths. “Everything I said to my father last night was a lie, but you didn’t give me a chance to prove that to you. I would’ve spent my life apologizing for every single word I told him last night, but you just had to go one better and hurt me back.”
“I just wanted you to feel how I did,” he replies, almost solemnly. He looks away from me, ashamed of himself. “I was so angry and I still was, still am! You weren’t telling me straight out that you lied, you didn’t force me to think otherwise. I was just angry and I wanted you to feel what I was feeling.”
“And it worked,” I remark coldly. “Now let me go!” I fight until I finally slip away and he tries to grab at me again, his apology marring his beautiful face. "When you broke up with me last time I felt like I was drowning. Suddenly this huge wave crashed into me and it took me by surprise. One moment I was living on cloud fucking nine with the man I loved with my entire heart and the next I was being condemned by him and cast into the only fiery hell he believed I deserved! You made me feel like that again and all because I’m a convincing fucking liar." As my anger mounts, so do my tears. Each one attaches to a lash, preparing for a watery onslaught. "I thought years of abuse at my father's hands would kill me, but it was you. You were always going to destroy me and I was the blind fool who allowed you to come in and take the opportunity time and time again." I begin to laugh, hysterically might I add! “And I really don’t know why I allow you to do it.”