Lauren Dunn.
She’d been there for him on that first day of school. He hadn’t given a shit where he was going or what he would do. She’d seen something in him he hadn’t seen in himself, and that had started a lifelong friendship. She’d been there for him when his ugliest and darkest parts consumed him, when he didn’t even want to be there for himself.
Even now he remembered the one and only time he’d broken down in front of her. She’d just held him and told him she wasn’t going anywhere. So he’d tried to be better for her, but he could never get rid of the vileness that was engrained in his soul. So, he fought, didn’t drink alone anymore, and it helped him see that life didn’t have to be grim because he’d had a shitty upbringing.
For as long as he could remember Ace had been living in his own self-hatred and disgust, living with the shame that he’d endured so much, yet probably deserved every single moment of it. Everything that happened was a direct result of what he’d done or didn’t do in most cases.
He had never before wanted anything for himself, never even entertained the idea of having something he could call his own. But now he did want something for himself, wanted something that caused his ugly pain inside to recede and fill with something else … maybe hope? His pain didn’t leave, didn’t vanish with that hope, but it did fade enough that he wasn’t confused with its ugliness.
He looked down at his arms, sweat lining the tattooed flesh. Even under the ink he still saw the cigar burns from his old man, still remembered the smell of burning flesh, of the sound of his skin sizzling, and then the numbness that followed the pain. It was that numbness that he wrapped himself up in, clung on tight to as a little boy. Without it he’d have been lost.
He started punching the red bag in front of him, feeling his anger mount, his desire for the one woman he’d never really have consume him. He was at the cheap gym in the town he lived in, and although he had a good paying job working at a construction contractor’s firm, he preferred the grittier part of the city.
It made him feel like he didn’t have to be someone or something he wasn’t. He could come here, work out amongst the poverty-stricken guys, the thugs, violent men that didn’t put up with shit, and he liked it that way.
For another twenty minutes he worked out, adding to the already hour and a half he’d been at the gym. It was going on seven in the morning, and he still had a full day of work ahead of him. The only thing that didn’t have him going completely mad was the fact he could look forward to seeing Lauren at the end of the day.
He grabbed onto the bag, braced his weight on it, and closed his eyes, breathing out. Lauren, fucking Lauren, the one woman that consumed his thoughts, the one person that made him want to be better. But Ace knew he could never be with her in the way he wanted.
He fought too much, had too much violence and darkness in him still, and although she knew about his past and that his father had beaten him in drunken fits, Lauren was still too pure and good for him.
She was his best friend, and he didn’t want to fuck up the only good thing in his life.
Ace took a step back, pressed his hand to the bag to steady it, and then in a fast move, using all of his strength, he slammed his fist into it. Pain exploded in his knuckles, the tape surrounding his skin unable to block the impact well enough. He cursed, clenched and released his hand, and turned to stalk toward the locker room.
Once inside he slammed the door shut, knowing he needed to get a hold of his emotions, but felt his rage rise up. Working out at the gym helped get some of that ugliness out, but it didn’t help all the time, like right now. What he needed was a nice bloody fight, one that wasn’t quite legal, but where the cops looked the other way because the place it was located wasn’t on the up and up.
But those were the best kind of fights, the raw, blood … gore. Those and bar fights were fucking good at getting him loose and relaxed. He’d never change, never not have to fight to get this nasty darkness out, but he dealt with it.
Going into the shower room he got undressed and turned on the tap, waiting for it to heat up before stepping inside. The water helped his sore muscles, washed away the sweat, but did nothing to help his anger. And then he thought about her, all wet and slick as she showered with him.