She didn’t care.
She was surrounded by predawn darkness. She never did turn on the lights, instead allowing the moonlight to cast shadows in the room to match those in her heart. Slowly, Meg tightened her abdominal muscles and pulled herself up—exhaling as she moved perpendicular with the ground five feet below.
Images of her blood-filled, recurring nightmares forced themselves into her mental picture of Creed—now his face was drenched in the remnants of Williams’ victims. This time she didn’t even hear herself scream in the outrage she felt boiling in her heart.
Just as slowly, Meg lowered herself until she hung again, and repeated the process, focusing on pulling up and twisting, first to the left then right. Up and down she pulled, willing the burn in her abdominal muscles to divert some pain from her aching heart.
Nothing helped.
Her tears mingled with the sweat pouring down her face. Her black latex running shorts and two black sports bras were drenched, but she didn’t stop.
She didn’t even stop when the lights flipped on and her little brother walked in, hands on his hips.
“How long have you been up?” Alik asked.
“Pass me the ten-pound weight,” she responded, hanging upside down again.
Alik frowned, but walked to the weights, neatly organized on the rack beside the bench press. As easily as a human carries a paper plate, Alik fingered the iron and handed it to her. She clutched to her chest, crossed her arms over it and continued her slow crunches.
Realizing she was in one of her moods, Alik smartly walked to the shelves and chose a jump rope from the assortment of equipment there. He began at a moderate pace, watching her out of the corner of his eye. Then his pace quickened and he kept it up for at least ten minutes before he stopped.
“You’ve done enough of these, Meg,” he said simply as he walked up to her, reaching his hand out to take the weight.
She scowled at him through her sweat-soaked face, but relinquished the iron and stiffly jumped down from the pole. The backs of her knees were beet red from where they chaffed on the steel bar, but she refused to soothe them with the rubs for which they begged. She didn’t even meet her brother’s eyes. Meg felt she deserved no comfort.
Instead, she walked to the equipment shelf and found her jump rope. She fell into the rhythm easily, mixing up the pace with one foot, then two feet hops, double whips and knees up.
Alik moved on to the bench press. He made sure he had his nine-hundred pounds then called to Meg as he lay back and locked his hands on the bar, “Meg, spot me?”
She clenched her teeth, angry that he knew she wouldn’t let him work with that much weight without a spotter and would have to stop her self-inflicted punishment to stand behind him, ready to help him if he needed it.
With a huff, Meg stopped jumping, wrapped the rope around the wooden handles and walked to him. His thick shoulders tightened with the weight as he pushed the bar up and off the supports, lowering it slowly toward his massive chest, before pushing it up—extending his arms. As she stood ready to help, her brain wouldn’t stop its self-inflicted punishment just because her body did. Alik’s physique had been changing more over the last two months so he really was looking even more like his half brother, Creed. Seeing echoes of Creed in Alik was very unsettling.
After five sets of seven, Alik replaced the barbell into its supports and said, “I think I wanna try for more. Would you put fifteen more on each side?”
She shrugged and walked to the rack, selecting the weights, slipping them onto the barbell and locking them all into place. Meg briefly worried if this was too much, but didn’t say anything. If anyone could handle this much weight, it was Alik.
At least someone could be a real hero and not Excruciatingly Emotional Girl like stupid me. Meg resumed her assault on her bottom lip.
She watched her brother wipe his hands dry, then wipe the bar before laying back and situating himself on the bench just right. He locked his thick hands on the shiny metal bar and pushed up, testing the feel of the additional weight. His blue eyes flashed in physical and mental concentration. He lowered the bar to his chest. As his arms began to push the massive amount of weight they quivered slightly, but he didn’t stop or call out for help. She was poised and ready to help shoulder the burden if he gave the slightest indication that it was too much, but he never did. He just kept lowering and pressing the weights for a set of ten before moving to replace the bar. Meg helped him slip the bar into its supports not because he looked as if he needed help, but because she couldn’t just stand by watching him struggle anymore.
Alik took several deep breaths, before speaking. “Why did you help me put the bar back?”
She shrugged, still not ready to talk.