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Sweat pours down my face as I hold my fists in front of me, swinging forward repeatedly. Switching hands, occasionally, but never letting up. The adrenaline takes over, coursing throughout my body, and it keeps me gaining forward momentum. Keeps me moving until I can’t feel anything.
Until nothing hurts anymore.
Until I’m slipping into an empty void.
Leaning over, I fold my arms across the railing of the balcony outside of the room I’ve been staying in. Running my fingertips across my cracked and bloodied knuckles, I try to shove the emotions aside while I contemplate what comes next.
After I busted my knuckles wide open on the heavy vinyl of the punching bags, I was able to see through the fog. I was able to process just a little bit of what I’m feeling, or at least allow myself to feel it without remorse. When I came up from the basement last night, I passed Cole’s room and headed straight for mine.
Even though my head was clearer, I wasn’t yet ready to face either one of them. In some ways, I still don’t think I am. I’m still wearing yesterday’s clothes, and I haven’t slept a wink. I simply locked myself away and avoided any and all interaction with everyone for the rest of the night. I’m itching to get out of here, but we can’t move Cole for a couple more days, so Amelia agreed to let us all stay.
At this point, there are so many things that remain left unsaid. Things I need to know. Things that I think Zeke needs to hear before he can be at peace with everything that has happened. I may not be able to take back any of the pain, but I damn sure can find a way for us all to heal in the end.
“Shit man, what the hell are you doing out here? It’s fucking freezing.”
Arsenal.
“Apparently trying and failing to get some privacy,” I snort, just as he walks up next to me, leaning his hip into the railing and crossing his arms.
“Please, you fucking love me,” he grins.
“We were barely friends in the beginning and now I can’t get rid of you. Maybe you’re the one who loves me.”
“Duh.”
I can’t fight the smile that crosses my face, or the laugh that escapes from deep inside of my chest. It’s the first time I’ve smiled in more than a week.
“You know,” he starts, “you’re supposed to wrap your fists so that doesn’t happen.”
“What can I say?” I shrug. “Maybe I’m a sucker for pain.”
Arsenal snickers and shakes his head at me as he nudges my arm with his elbow. “Come on, spill. You gotta talk to someone. What’s going on up in that noggin of yours?”
“I dunno, man. Just trying to make sense of it all. As pissed off as I am on Zeke’s behalf, at that asshole Charles, I think Zeke needs to hear him out or he’s never going to accept it. He was making so much progress, and I just… you didn’t see it. The look in his eyes when I told him. The way he completely detonated when he came face to face with Charles.”
“Man, he’s pissed, but he will survive. Give him time. I’ll talk to Han and see if we can’t get him and Charles in a room together at some point.”
“Thanks, man. But, speaking of Han…”
“Yeah,” he arches his eyebrow at me.
“This thing with Ellie. It’s the one thing I can’t see him getting over. He’s been chasing her for almost half of his life now. He’s not just going to accept that this is how things have to be.”
“Okay,” Arsenal shifts his weight, resting one hand on the railing. “So what are you saying?”
“I’m gonna need Hannah to do something for me. I’ve been pretty shitty to her though, so maybe…”
“Yeah, yeah. Say less. Tell me what you need. I got you bruh.”
The plan is stupid. Idiotic, really. Even coming from Arsenal’s mouth, there’s no guarantee that Hannah will even agree, but I have to try. If there’s any possible way to bring Zeke closure, I’ll make it happen because he deserves that much. And in the end if he still can’t forgive me? At least I know he won’t spend the rest of his life still punishing himself for all the things that were never within his control to begin with.
At least I know he will have peace.
Chapter forty-one
Cole
As I try to swallow the saliva pooling in my throat, it scratches something fierce; more like swallowing sandpaper than spit. My eyes burn as I force my eyelids open slowly, and I try to focus on my surroundings. It’s dark in here, but there’s a dim light in the corner that illuminates the room, and I’m definitely not in a cell.
