AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I can’t believe he did that,” I said. “What kind of psychotic asshole comes into a store and threatens the staff? Our breakup wasn’t your fault.”
Xavier sighed and pulled away to gaze into my eyes.
“From what I’ve seen, it wasn’t your fault either. Stay away from him, okay?”
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Okay.” I didn’t mention how only a few seconds earlier, I was considering going back to Nathan. “He just makes me so angry.”
Xavier scratched his beard and looked thoughtful.
“Why don’t you take that anger out on the boxing bag?”
“You’ve got a boxing bag?” I asked, surprised. I hadn’t remembered seeing one in the apartment, but I’d been exhausted and scared. There could have been an elephant in the kitchen, and I might have missed it.
“Downstairs,” Xavier said with a smile. “We’ve got a fully stocked gym down there.”
I was shocked. I didn’t remember seeing another staircase, but when Xavier opened a door that I’d assumed hid a pantry, there it was.
I went back upstairs and changed into activewear, then ventured down. I couldn’t tell how they’d carted gym equipment down such a narrow passageway, but once I was in the basement, I saw that one wall contained a roller door that must have opened up to the street. But when I tried to lift it, I found that it was locked.
That corner was being used for storage, but the other side of the room held all the fitness equipment I’d ever need: a rowing machine, spin bike, dumbbells, barbells, a pullup bar and a bench. Skipping ropes and rubber bands hung on the wall, and nearby, there was a boxing bag suspended from a chain that was anchored to the ceiling.
I hadn’t done much exercise since I’d met Nathan because whenever I started to look strong he’d make disparaging comments about women with muscles. But I trained at a gym before I met him, when I played netball, and was sure I’d remember what to do.
After selecting an up-tempo playlist to stream through my wireless headphones, I slid on a pair of blue boxing gloves and fastened the velcro straps around my wrists. They were too big for me, which made sense if the guys had bought them for themselves, so I pulled the straps tight to stop them from falling off.
It had been a long time since I’d done any boxing. When I stepped up to the bag I felt nervous, as though I was about to ask it out on a date.
Just punch it, I told myself, and balled my hand into a fist.
My first swing was weak, and the bag connected with the wrong part of my knuckle.
“Ouch,” I yelped, as I pulled my hand back. The bag hung there, unmoving, and I realized I’d need to hit it harder to have any impact. My second punch was better, with more power behind it, and it felt good to get my emotions out.
I punched faster, alternating between my left and right hands, then doubling up and adding hooks.
As I got into the rhythm, my mind drifted back to Nathan: the first time we met at a wine tasting event, Nathan topped up my glass and grinned as I became tipsy. At first, I thought he was being generous, but it turned into a pattern of manipulation. He knew that getting me drunk would get me into bed, and took advantage of it.
Punch,punch,punch.
Then there was the time he saw me talking to another man and lost his shit. I looked too slutty, he said, as he grabbed the low neckline on my dress and pulled the fabric until he tore it.
“If you want to be naked, do it properly,” he shouted, as he tried to rip my dress off my body.
Punch,punch,punch.
And then… one time I’d gone out to a bar and came home to him sitting in the dark, glaring at me.
“I thought you were dead,” he said, and although I didn’t hear it then — I was too busy apologizing for making him worry — in hindsight, it sounded like a threat.
Punch,punch,punch.
My music was loud, and I was so absorbed in my thoughts that I didn’t notice Adrian come in. When I realized he was standing there, watching me, I stopped boxing mid-punch and overbalanced, almost falling over.
“Hell yeah,” he said, as he picked up another pair of gloves and pulled them on. “You’ve got good technique.”
I felt my cheeks grow hot at the compliment. When was the last time Nathan had said something nice? All the examples I could think of didn’t seem genuine anymore. He had nothing nice to say, except when he could sense me pulling away. Every time I thought about leaving, he’d shower me with flattering comments, which would vanish as soon as I agreed to stay.
