Page 23 of Fixation of the Mind

He abruptly stood up and stalked off, leaving me open mouthed and shocked. I was scrambling to get up, wanting to talk out whatever the hell was up his ass, when he stomped back again. “Let's get to work. Stand with your legs open.”

Keeping my mouth shut, I did as he asked. He wanted to move on from his tantrum? Fine.

He tweaked my stance, keeping it very professional, while I, on the other hand, was having a hard time. I kept telling myself to stop, reminding myself that I didn't trust the brothers enough to take it there again, but my damn body and brain were working against me. I almost rubbed my thighs together as I watched him carefully wrap my hands in preparation of working the punching bag.

I was finally able to focus once he saw that I’d gotten the stance and movements correct. Thankfully, after that, he didn't have to stand behind me and touch me so much.

We worked on the punching bag for a bit to get a rhythm going, and I was starting to have fun. I liked punching and smashing into things with my fists. It made me feel powerful, like I was in control, and it was exhilarating. I could tell Roux was having a good time too. Every once in a while, when he left me alone and worked alongside me on his own punching bag, he would get this wide smile. It never wavered despite the flurry of punches he rained down on the bag.

Being so lost in what we were doing, I didn't hear the door open. Most days, no one else came in. I had a suspicion that the boys had warned others off from crashing our time here.

“Now, Roux, you know that wasn't how I taught you.”

That familiar slimy, highbrow voice felt like I was in a dentist’s chair getting my teeth drilled. It carried across the room to us, and Roux and I stopped. It was my first instinct to turn to Roux, wanting to ask how I should react, but he was standing there like a deer caught in headlights.

The urge to comfort him, to touch his arm and tell him everything would be okay, came on hard and strong, but I held it in, knowing I shouldn't do that in front of their uncle. With the way the three of them talked about their uncle, they hated him with a passion.

“When I arranged for the girl to be trained by you, I thought she was going to get the best training money could buy, but watching you now, I see you're treating her with kid gloves.” He came forward like he owned the place even though, in his suit and dress shoes, hair slicked back, he seemed utterly out of place. His hands rested behind his back, and his crystal gaze slinked around like he was disgusted.

He tutted. “Now, this just won’t do. The girl is representing the Ambros family, after all.”

Roux grabbed my arm and roughly yanked me back to the center of the mat, all while whispering to me, “Pretend as best you can.”

I didn't know what that meant until he threw me across the mat and lunged at me. I quickly dodged his first punch, reminding myself that this was what the damn endurance training was about. I looked at Roux, confused when he glared at me, circling like a tiger about to pounce on a rabbit.

“What the fuck?” I growled under my breath before he lunged for me again. This time, I spun away from him and moved to strike, but he tackled me to the ground with a loud thud.

Gasping for air, I tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but he was just so strong I couldn’t find a way out. Panic started to settle in, and he lifted up just a bit, looking down at me with a face full of sorrow and regret. “When I punch, go down hard. Cry out loud.”

He moved his leg, and I was able to get out from under him. He popped up with superhuman speed and lunged for me again. I barely escaped his fingers, knowing it wouldn’t happen twice.

Stalking toward me like the Grim Reaper, I looked over his shoulder. His uncle was watching with malicious zeal. This was what he wanted. He wanted me to be afraid, to be beaten down… and he liked it.

I was sick to my stomach after getting just a micro taste of what it was like to be under their uncle’s command. He would’ve savored his control, the pain he’d caused threefold for years, ever since they were ten. My heart broke for the boys I had known, ones that I cared deeply for, and the men they were now, still scarred by this experience. Now their hesitation to train me made sense.

Noticing Roux’s now pained expression, I prepared myself as his fist cocked back. This wasn't his fault. He wasn't hitting me and telling me to go down to humiliate me. He wanted to save me from his uncle.

As soon as Roux’s fist grazed my stomach, I jumped back a step. My face contorted in pain, I fell backward hard, crying out like I’d never faced a worse injury. While the tears were real, the pain was only a fraction of what my heart was feeling, all because of this asshole.

Lying on the ground, I made sure to “weep“ loudly enough for the man across the room to hear. Roux was standing over me, breathing hard like he had really put his all into that punch, which we both knew he didn’t.

A ring of applause came out as that sick man cooed, “Well done, Roux.”

His voice got louder, making sure I heard him over my cries. “Now, that is what is expected out of you, girl. Wipe your tears and do it again. Weakness will not be tolerated in Foedus.” The clicking of his shoes sounded against the concrete in the hallway as he left, his laughter echoed in the hallway.

My fists clenched on the mat. I hated that man. I hated that man more than anything else in this world, and that was saying something.

As soon as the door shut, Roux fell to his knees next to me, his head hung and shoulders slumped. His raw voice came out, whispering, “I’m so sorry, Rin.” The pain in his soft words rocked me like an earthquake. Normally, he was loud, rough, and angry, but this time, he sounded small, weak, and broken.

Wiping my tears, I got up, and without thinking my hands circled around his slumped form as I told him it was okay, that I was fine. He’d barely hit me. He shook his head, mumbling that he hated his uncle, that he hated himself for doing that, and he couldn’t stand to look me in the eyes.

Lifting his head with my hands cupping his cheeks, I made him look at me. While he wasn't crying, I could see the glassy eyes of a man who never let himself cry but still carried the pain. “You helped me. You saved me. If we really had to fight, you know that you would wipe the floor with me, but you coached me on how to get through it.”

Taking one of his hands and placing it on my stomach, I knew I needed to be completely honest with him. “While you did hit me, technically…” He winced, eyes going to the floor. “It didn't hurt that much. In fact, I think it's because of all our training these past two weeks that I was able to take it.”

I smiled widely. “I might be a little sore, but I’m good. Look.” I lifted my shirt, showing him it was only red. It wasn't black and blue, like it should’ve been. “I'm okay… because of you.”

He took in a ragged breath and looked up. When his eyes found mine, his lips parted. I glanced at those lips, wanting to press up against them, to feel them take over mine as we rolled around on the mat, to take away the pain. Making it so the outside world couldn’t affect us right now.

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