It was a warm night, even though the water was frigid. My calm restored, I listened to the quiet sounds of evening—broken at once by a scream.
My body went on alert as adrenaline shot through my veins. The scream cut off, but it came from the direction of the bar. Slowly I took a few steps when I heard it again—definitely a female scream.
Jogging toward the noise, I could barely make out the shape of a man behind a smaller form of a woman with long hair. She was pushing and throwing her arms all around, but he caught them, pinning them against her sides.
Another man was approaching them, so I slowed my pace, waiting. I wasn’t about to let what seemed to be happening happen, but at the same time, if someone else could intervene and help her, that would be for the best.
“My brother’s military,” I heard her scream. The sound of her ragged voice fanned the rage building in my torso. “He’ll rip your throat out and shove it up your ass.”
My jaw was tight, and my fists clenched shut as I waited, hoping the skinny guy could help her. I barely heard him say something that sounded like “Let her go,” but the dick holding her shouted, “Go away so I can fuck her.”
She screamed again, and rage flooded my vision. Skinny backed off, but I charged forward. In less than ten paces, my clenched fist made contact with the fucker’s jaw and a satisfying CRACK! ricocheted down my arm. He flew back, but his hold on the girl’s arms kept him upright. A left hook, another satisfying connecting punch, and he fell back, flat on the sand.
Abuser, fucking worthless abuser. It took all of my willpower to control the fury blazing in my chest. I stood over him, envisioning myself beating him repeatedly. My days in the ring were in the front of my mind, and I knew every hit I’d lay on him. High-volume punching. I’d smash him over and over until there was nothing left of his head but bloody pulp.
Breath pumped in and out of me like a bellows, and I fought to stop the red, to find the mantra. Nothing was coming. Until her voice, clear as a bell, cut through the noise.
She said something. I didn’t know what it was, but the sound of her turned me. I took a wobbly step away from the body lying on the sand in front of me to her. She was beautiful, broken and pale in the moonlight. Long, dark hair draped over her shoulders, and her dress was torn. She cautiously reached for me, and I wanted to gather her in my arms and hold her.
I couldn’t do that. She was hurt, and I didn’t even know who she was.
“Are you okay?” My voice shook. That was a close one.
She nodded, shaking as well. “Y-you saved me.”
I could see her working hard to pull herself together. She was so small, but I could tell she was strong. I remembered what she’d said, or rather screamed, and I dug for the burner phone in my pocket.
“Do you want to call your brother?”
She seemed confused then I saw her remember. “That was a bluff.”
Her shoulders trembled hard, and again, I wanted to ask if I could hold her. I took one step toward her, but the fucker on the ground made a noise. “Shit,” I whispered, anger mixed with relief. He was coming around, and I needed to go. “Is there anyone you can call?”
As much as I couldn’t be found here, I couldn’t leave her by herself. Voices yelle
d from the direction of the bar, and she looked back over her shoulder.
“Those are my friends.” It was all I needed to hear. I told her something like goodbye and took off running back in the direction of my apartment.
She’d be okay. Her friends would take care of her. Halfway back, I realized I never asked her name. I didn’t know who she was. A beautiful creature, rescued on the beach, and I’d never see her again. The devastation of that thought broke my run.
Staggering to a walk, I looked back over my shoulder. She’d be gone when I got there if I ran back, and even if she wasn’t, an angel as beautiful as that? She deserved so much better than a broken down sinner like me, regardless of what I’d just done on the beach. I had to let her go.
Chapter 8: “Don’t be afraid to try again.”
Kenny
Thursday morning the fist was back. It clenched hard in my chest, making it difficult to breathe. I needed to hit something.
Yesterday, I hadn’t even gotten out of bed. After crying myself into a fitful sleep, I woke up screaming, feeling calloused hands gripping my arms to my sides. I threw my blankets back and went straight to the shower. Standing under the scalding-hot water, I scrubbed until my skin was red and tender. It helped remove the sensations, but it was hours before I could relax again. When I’d opened my eyes, it was after five. Mariska had texted me a few times and left a voicemail once.
Are you coming in? Was her first message, sent around ten. It was followed by I’m guessing you’re not, around noon.
I rolled onto my side and listened to her voice on my phone. “Hey, I’m worried about you. I wish you’d call or at least text. Rook thinks you caught a stomach bug, and Tammy covered your clients. Just call or text me, okay? Love ya.”
Disconnecting, I shot her a quick reply. Will be in tomorrow. Thanks for covering for me. Don’t feel like talking.
The only vehicle in the lot when I arrived was an old junker Ford someone had abandoned. Pushing through the glass doors, I made a point of taking the lanyard out of my cubby so everyone would know I was here before heading to the small boxing room, ready for my early-morning drill. My hair was up in a ponytail, and I had on my usual black spandex capris and black tank. I didn’t have gloves, only the gel hand wraps that came with the equipment.