SKINTIGHT (Part 1)

Chapter 9

hi everyone!!! I hope you're all doing okay after the last chapter. I know this books deals with some pretty heavy stuff so please reach out if you need to chat. I'm always monitoring the comments too 🥰 love you guys ❤️

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Violet

I can barely feel my hands as I throw them forward, the weight of them too heavy to control. They land in place with each attempt but with little to no force. I'm not strong enough. They feel like giant rocks.

"Come on, Violet," Rio encourages. "You've gotta give me a little more than that."

But I don't have any more to give. Each time I bring my fist forward, I fear it's going to fall off. I can see it before me — my arm ripping off at my elbow, falling to the floor all bloody and limb. It doesn't hurt. I can't feel it tear and I can't hear it land. I can only see it. It wouldn't look like my arm anymore. If it weren't attached, it would just resemble a dirty log of wood. I wish that's what I was made of. If I were, I wouldn't have to be here. I'd be shoved in the bottom of someone's fireplace, preparing to be burnt alive. That would feel incredible. I bet it'd hurt, but it would be a relief. My skin would sizzle and welt and it would sting, probably worse than I'd ever felt before.

I tried it once — when I set Jack's car on fire. The flames were so warm and strong, I wanted to know what it would feel like. I wanted to be a part of it. I wanted the flames to be coming out of me. I reached my hand out to touch it. I was so close to touching it. I could feel the heat on my skin, but I couldn't do it. It was too warm and I was too scared. I pussied out, just like I always do.

"What's going on? You're not going to hit me?" Rio asks. "You're barely touching the mitts."

"I can't," I state.

"Yes, you can. I know you can."

"I can't. I'm not in the mood."

"Then this should be perfect for you."

"No, it's—," I groan out in frustration."I'm tired."

"Well, this isn't going to work if you aren't putting any effort in."

"I am putting effort in!"

"It doesn't feel like it."

"Oh my god," I roll my eyes. "Fine."

"Great," he lifts the mitts back up, preparing for the hit. It lands on the target but it's barely hard enough to make a dent. "Come on."

"What?"

"You can do better than that."

"I did what you asked."

"But you can do better. I know you can."

"Oh my god," I punch into the pad, throwing all my energy into the impact. It's off-target, but Rio doesn't care.

"Yeah, that's better," he nods. "Now do that again."

"Do I have to?"

"Yes."

"Rio..." I complain.

"Just give me one more of those."

"One more?"

"That's it."

"Fine," I suck in a breath and try once more, but it's not the same.

"Ah, come on. You've got this," Rio insists. But I just don't. I can't bring myself to do it. I can't even hold my hand in a fist. I don't want to be standing here. I just want to die. My knees could give way at any second and I'll sink into a puddle right here on the mat. It'll leak out onto the floor and into the crevices of the tiles and make it impossible for these fuckers to clean up. Maybe I'll slip down the drain and leave only my organs behind. They can collect them all in a nice little basket and it'll be up to them to carry them around 24/7 because I can't fucking do it anymore. I'm tired. They're heavy. There's not enough space in my body for all this shit. I don't have the strength to hold them all together. I just don't.