Page 31 of Make Them Cry
Every single one lights up my nerves like a live wire.
And the worst part?
Ilikeit. I like how calm he is, how sure. How I don’t feel stupid in front of him, even when I mess up. He doesn’t judge. He just resets and teaches.
“You’re doing better,” he murmurs.
I glance up—eyes locking on the black eyes of the mask.
Who is this man? How does he even know me?
I whisper, “Have we met before?”
He freezes.
Just for a second.
But then he steps back. “That’s enough for today.”
I nod, swallowing the question.No questions.
He kneels, rolls the mat back up in a single sweep, and strides to the door without another word.
“Wait,” I say, taking a step forward. “Thank you.”
He pauses with one hand on the handle.
“You asked how to fight,” he says without turning around. “But you already know how to survive.”
Then he’s gone.
That night, I sit on the floor, still flushed and sweating from the impromptu lesson, and try to come up with any reason why that voice reminds me of someone I see every day.
It’s not possible. Itcan’tbe.
And yet…
Every time he corrected me, every time his voice dipped just a little too low, it reminded me of?—
I close my eyes and picture Gage.
His smug coffee-stealing grin. His voice when he says my name like it’s a dare. The way he looms at my desk just to drive me insane. The way he looked yesterday when he handed me that stupid half-cup of coffee like it was a peace treaty.
God.
Itcouldn’tbe him. Could it?
I pull my hoodie tighter and try not to think about how I felt safer in the hands of a masked stranger than I have in weeks.
Or that, deep down, Iwantedto be touched by him again.
I wanted more than lessons.
I wanted to feel like I belonged to something—someone—again.
Just for a moment.
Just long enough to forget what it feels like to always look over my shoulder.
