Page 15 of Sweet Punk
My entire body quakes in fear of what’s coming. I try to be strong, I try to be quiet, like I know he wants me to be. I want to run, but he grips me so tightly, I can’t get away.
And as I silently tremble, my father yanks the collar of my shirt to the side and puts out the cigarette on my shoulder, mashing the still-burning cigarette butt down good and hard into my skin.
I can’t help it. I scream.
It’s not the first time. And I know it won’t be the last.
No matter how hard I try, my father hates me more and more with each passing day.
* * *
Fuck.That was so fucking embarrassing. From the look on Professor Coggins’s face, that was a first. I’m sure he’s had plenty of students nervous to give speeches before. Hell, whoisn’ta little anxious when they are required to get up in front of a crowd and spout off at the mouth for three full minutes? But fuck, within seconds of starting to speak, I’d given in to the stutter I’ve worked so hard to overcome.
I suck in a breath. Learning to master my body and my thoughts has taken me years of work. I’m upset I wasn’t able to control myself better. There’s nothing quite like feeling like you’re ten years old again, ready to wet yourself at the prospect of being ridiculed. The fucking memories it’d dredged up as I stood there quaking hadn’t fucking helped either.
Once the stutters had started, The Assholes had opened their mouths and broadcast their opinions, and I’d been reminded of each time Jamie made fun of me for the trouble I had speaking. Instead of coming to my defense, like I thought a brother should, he’d joined in with the other boys picking on me. And today, I let those ignorant, arrogant fuckers get to me just like my brother always used to.
If only they knew what I’ve gone through to overcome those issues.Fuck.Who the hell am I kidding? They’d still be assholes because that’s what assholes do. My dad’s still an asshole. No matter how hard I try to be what he wants me to be, I’m never enough for him. My brother’s an asshole, too. And I swear to fuck when Jamie gets here next year—because I know he’ll end up coming to Shadow River—he’d better steer clear of me because thanks to the workouts with Maddox and Hawk, I will fucking knock him out if he says so much as a word to me. I shift my bag to a more comfortable position across my chest and pull my phone out of my pocket.
Me:Can anyone meet me at the gym?
Me:I know you guys are pissed or whatever.
Me:But I need to work out some frustration.
Maddox:Give me twenty minutes, and I’ll meet you there.
Hawk:I can’t get there right now.
Hawk:But beer later?
Me:Yeah. Anything.
Hawk:For the record, we aren’t pissed.
Hawk:We’re concerned. There’s a difference.
True to his word, twenty minutes later, Maddox approaches me where I’ve been waiting for him on a bench outside the gym. I stand and we exchange a quick fist bump before he growls, “What’s going on?”
“Can we just—? It’s been a rough couple of days, culminating in a shit show of a speech presentation today.”Fuck.I do want to talk. But I need to get my head straight first.
He exhales sharply through his nose, scanning my features for a moment. I don’t know what he sees there, but whatever it is has him agreeing to my request. “Yeah, man. No worries. Let’s go.” He punches my bicep a little harder than necessary as we enter the building, heading directly for the locker room.
Inside, we don’t exchange a word, we’re all business as we quickly change into workout gear so we can fight. Because that’s what this is and Maddox knows it. I need an outlet, and he’s offered to be that for me today. He knows I’d do the same for him and have plenty of times before.
Out in the gym, we head for the area that’s home to the punching bags and the large mats where we like to do our sparring. We make quick work of wrapping our hands for a bit of protection, put on our MMA gloves, and get to work. We circle each other, size the other up, and then the strikes begin. Maddox is a demon in a fight. He hits hard and fast, and has such good stamina, he rarely tires before I do. Usually, my job is to stay out of his way, and try to return the attack. Only today, I change my tactic, throwing the first punch, and catch him on the chin. Maddox’s brows raise, but he gives his head a brief shake, and we carry on. It’s an all-out battle, both of us throwing and landing vicious punches and jabs as well as harsh low kicks, until we’re sweating buckets and heaving ragged breaths. My heart hammers in my chest. A flash of movement on my right causes me to glance away from Maddox.
The next thing I know, I’m on the floor, opening my eyes and blinking up at the overhead lights on the ceiling.
“Fuck. Sorry, Kellan.” Maddox is stooped over me. “Between you and Hawk, I clearly need to ask for a full rundown of your current mental state and everything that’s wrong in your world before I agree to fight you.”
I wince, my head pounding. I groan, “You fuckin’ rang my bell. Good job.”
“What the hell happened?” Maddox grits his teeth, letting me have a few seconds to recover. He stands above me, making quick work of removing his gloves and unwrapping the tape from his hands.
I allow my eyes to shift back and forth, trying to recall how I ended up on the floor. Then it hits me, and I sit up slowly, looking around. “I thought I saw—” I jerk to a stop. Great. I’m fucking seeing things. I swear to God, I saw Star over by the treadmills. Just a flash of bright pink. Maybe it’s dumb to think I saw that tiny lock of pink in her hair, but I guess whatever it’d been was enough to distract me.
Maddox runs his forearm over his brow, swiping sweat out of his eyes, then glances in the direction of my gaze. He shakes his head, huffing out a laugh. “Well, I’d say we’re done for today.” He holds his hand out to me. “Can you get up?”
