Him

Chapter fifteen

"Where are we going?" I asked as we flew through our town again. We saw all of our town leaving from work and heading home. I even saw Becca's dad getting into his car. We went all the way to the border of our town before Dylan pulled into a parking spot.

"Were are we?" I asked again and again got no answer. I followed him into the building. It was filled with boxing rings and punching bags lined up. I hoped to god he wasn't going to try and teach me how to fight. 

I already knew how to fight, but it wouldn't help me at all anyways. My father is too powerful.

"I wanted to show you something." Dylan said as he led me through the building.

"Craig!" Dylan yelled. A middle-aged man with gray hair turned around. His face lit up as he walked over to us.

"Dylan! Your Aunt would be so happy to see you here! How's it going?" Craig asked him.

"We were wondering if we could have some punching bag slots for a while?" Dylan asked him. 

" Of course! Let me go reserve them for you. You want equipment?" Craig replied.

Dylan nodded and Craig walked over to a computer.

"Your going to like this." Dylan smiled. Really? We got two stations next to each other. I didn't want to do this, so I let him go first. I listened to the sounds around me.

There were others around us punching the bags. Sometimes two people would be fighting in the rings in the center of the room. When that happened i would watch their unique fighting styles and see which moves caused them to win or lose.

"Wanna try? It's really stress relieving." Dylan turned to me.

"Fine." I replied. I put the gloves on and prepared my stance. Dylan put his arms around me and that's when I realized he was trying to teach me how to punch.

"Your stance is pretty good. Do know which hand to punch with first? It should be your dominant hand." He continued talking and I was starting to get pissed off.

"Can you shut up?" I yelled at him a minute later. He looked surprised and stepped back.

"Sure." He smirked. Did he think this was funny? I took my annoyance out on the bag instead of him.

I turned around and beat the bag repeatedly. When it swung too much I steadied it and started over again. I don't know how much time passed but I eventually turned around and took a break. Dylan was standing there with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face.

"What?" I asked like nothing happened. He laughed.

"So, I get that you don't want to be taught how to fight, obviously, but I can help you get the most out of this process." He said calmly.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Think of something that makes you so angry or stressed. Get mad about. Take it out. Imagine the bag as that thing." Dylan said. I didn't know what to say.

"I'll show you." He said. He moved to the bag next to me and started punching it. He was going at a normal pace and the bag was moving, but not like before.

"I'm not thinking about anything. But now," He said as he started punching harder and faster.

"I'm thinking about the single most infuriating thing on this planet." His voice darkened and he punched the hell out of the bag. When he was done he was out of breath, but I could tell it did help.

I turned to my own bag and tried to think of something that made me mad. I couldn't think of anything.

"I don't know what to think about." I said.

"What makes you mad?" He asked. That was the problem, nothing did.

I was so used to being emotionally detached that nothing made me mad.

"Nothing." I replied.

"Randy doesn't make you mad?" He asked. I shook my head. He sighed, looking like he was debating something in his mind.

"What about your life? Nothing there?" He asked. I shook my head again. My life was dark, but I came to that conclusion years ago.

"Your father?" He asked raising his eyebrow at me. My heart sped up and I couldn't move.

"You aren't mad that he abandoned you? For alcohol? For nothing? He left you alone in the darkness!" Dylan was raising his voice now. The yelling didn't phase me at all.

"He beat you like you were worthless!" Dylan yelled. My face twitched.

"Finally a reaction!" Dylan sighed. 

"You want me to get mad? At that? It's just a fact. Why get mad about it?" I asked. Dylan's eyes twitched.

"Get pissed, yell, scream, do something! Don't let yourself except it because that's when you've given up entirely! Have you given up?" He asked me. I was going to say yes. That's what I thought about this situation for years.

But something inside me made me say,

"No." 

"I can't hear you?" Dylan said.

"NO!" I yelled. Dylan smiled.

I turned around with a thousand thoughts running through my head. I started hitting the bag. I watched it move more and more.

I lost all of my barriers. I lost control.