Page 54 of Claimed
“Isaidmy clothes don’t fit.”
“So? I’ll buy you new clothes.” He gives me a nonchalant shrug.
“I don’t want to fit into new clothes. I want to fit in my old clothes.”
“I don’t see what the big deal is.”
“Thebig dealis I’m fat. You won’t want me if I’m fat.”
He walks over casually and cradles my face in both hands, angling it so I’m looking at him.
“Babe...number one, you arenotfat. Number two, I like my woman with meat on her bones. Number three, and most important, I’ll want you no matter what size you are. So...I’ll buy you new clothes.”
I open my mouth to speak then promptly close it. What do I say? If I tell him it was a sweet thing he said, he’ll just deny it. But it was. It was unbelievably sweet. In fact, it was perfect.
“You always know exactly what to say.”
“Just telling the truth, doll.”
He kisses my forehead then reaches into his drawer and pulls out some basketball shorts for me. Once I’m dressed, we head back to the bag. I place my feet exactly the way he had them then wait for my next instruction.
“Bend your knees slightly and put the majority of your weight on your back leg. Bring your arms up, but make sure you keep them relaxed.”
I’m actually starting to get excited. I want to kick the shit out of this bag. He places one hand on the top of my head, the other under my chin, and tilts my head down by a small degree.
“Keep your elbows in, hands up. Always protect your face.”
“Elbows in, hands up. Got it.”
“I’ll show you how to throw a punch. Once your shoulder’s better, I’ll take you to the ring and we can work on movement.”
“Okay,” I agree.
He takes hold of my left fist, rotating it as he extends my arm. “This is a left jab. From the chin out. You wanna make sure the punch lands like this.” He points to the way my fist is positioned. “At a straight angle.”
“Got it.”
“Push off your back leg and step into the punch, toward the bag. Try it.”
I recite his instructions in my head and throw a tentative punch.
“Good,” he encourages me. “Again.”
I throw another…and another. This feels better than any therapy session I’ve had so far.
“You’re doing great, baby doll. This will be your go-to punch until we can do more.”
I give him a big smile and turn my attention back to the bag. On its surface, I envision the dark figure at my door. I land my fist right in the middle of the image. It doesn’t disappear, but it flickers.
I’m going to beat you. I’m going to hammer away at you until you’re nothing but a distant memory. You stole my life and I’m taking it back. One punch at a time.
CHAPTER 13
***Raven***
Elbows in, hands up, protect your face.The words are emblazoned on my mind since I’ve been reciting them for three months. Learning to box was the best idea I’ve ever had. It hasn’t magically made my life a fairy tale, but at least I’mliving. I no longer just go through the motions of each day. I started out small—spending my days outside of the bedroom—and I got to know the guys better by hanging out with them every day. Ellen came over whenever she could, and I got to play with Mikey. When I was bored, I started doing housework. I cleaned Gage’s bedroom and took over his laundry from Aunt Nita. Then I started helping out in the kitchen. Before long, the Hounds deferred to me and I basically started running it. That pissed Britney off. She doesn’t even come into the kitchen anymore, sticking to the bar.
Gage was happy, and that’s all that mattered. He was able to devote his time back to his businesses, but he came home for dinner every day. Deena’s helped me a lot, too. I really don’t see how she could have been friends with Lonnie. Other than being Hounds, they don’t seem to have anything else in common.
