Shattered: A Dark Romance

That only makes it worse, this time I march away looking for something else to wreck. When I enter the living room the first thing I notice is Pax and Vaughn sitting on the couch. Fitting that they’re here to witness my outburst.

I go for the credenza, there's a clay statue there he bought at some art auction. I smash that first, letting the pieces shatter on the hardwood floors.

I fucking love the sound.

I don’t stop, everything within reach comes crashing down. Art, vases, everything.

Noah doesn’t interrupt and neither do the boys. They let me tear everything down, break as much as I can.

No one speaks until I’m out of breath, on my knees, crying.

I NEED TO HIT SOMETHING. Channel this fucking anger I feel into something other than her. She’s in tears in front of us, on her knees and panting as she comes down from her rage. All of us are staring at her after witnessing her complete breakdown.

That's what that was. After nearly a year of sucking in her emotions, storing them all away in neatly labeled boxes in the back of her mind, she broke. Your mind can only handle so much, can only pack away so many emotions before they start busting out at the seams.

And hers have exploded. A year of regrets bursting from her and taking her down with the wreckage.

“You did this.” She cries out once her breathing has slowed down some.

“What are you talking about?” I grumble.

“You did this. You killed her.” She shouts, the tears falling down her cheeks in waves now.

I feel my eyes glaze over with red, one of them twitching as a switch in my brain is pulled. Anger is creeping up through my veins, begging to explode out of me.

“Watch her,” I grumble, hoping one of them will listen to me as I march away, heading for my home gym.

I need to clear my head or I’m going to do something I regret. I can’t be near her right now, can’t bear to hear the accusations that are about to leave her lips.

“Don’t let her fucking leave.” I yell, knowing one of the guys will hear me.

I don’t even bother changing into workout clothes and head straight to the punching bag in the corner. The fitted jeans and white t-shirt will have to do for now. I slip my hands into the boxing gloves, not even bothering to ensure they’re tight, instead launching right in. I slam my fists into the bag, feeling my knuckles clench beneath the material of the glove. I repeat the action over and over again, using every last ounce of energy I have to beat the shit out of the inanimate object.

I imagine my father, his smug grin staring right at me, waiting for me to fail. For this all to blow up in my face.

Hiding the truth from her was a commitment from the start, but one that is worth it. I have to remind myself repeatedly, this is the right thing to do.

I’m not sure how long I’m there, punching until all of the energy has drained from my body. I keep going even after my arms are sore and my body wants to stop, I keep punching the bag trying to remove every last bit of anger from inside me.

“Noah,” It’s Beckett’s voice that breaks me out of the cage inside my head, halting my movements. My elbows hit my knees while I attempt to catch my breath. “She doesn’t know.” Becket continues, “She has no idea what you’ve done, she’s just fucking confused.” Beckett is silent for a moment, his bottom lip tugged between his teeth. “Maybe you should tell her,” he says.

“No.” I snap, righting myself. “She can’t fucking know.”

“Noah—”

“No.” I repeat, cutting Beckett off. “She can’t know. You think that was fucking bad?” I fling my arm, gesturing toward her breakdown in the living room. “Imagine if she knew the truth.”

Beckett flinches at my tone. “I know, but I think not knowing is killing her.”

He’s not wrong, and I know that. The missing moments, the fragments of memories are breaking Mik. She longs for answers to her missing memories and I wish I could tell her.

But I can’t.

“No.” I say again. “She can’t fucking know, Beck. Got it?”

Beckett holds up his hands defensively. “Got it,” he repeats.

I go back to punching the bag even though my body feels weak, pounding my fists against the material, letting every sliver of energy out. Leaving it all here on this mat. A ringing interrupts me, taking Beckett’s attention as well.