The Mafia Queen's Husband

Chapter twenty-six - Eva

___________________
🎶 I can't even lie, I'm not doin' well 🎶
Wakin' up without you, sleepin' by myself
Alone in our room, all your stuff is gone
Yeah, I'm standin' still here while you're movin' on
When my world would tear in two
You were who I ran to
Now I can't even call, or call you my friend
Oh, darlin', it's strange 'cause you and I are
🎶 strangers all over again 🎶
___________________

~One year later-

The muscles in my arms are burning and my body is begging me to stop, but I just keep hitting the punching bag over and over again. Sweat is rolling down my back and chest. The gym is empty and the sounds of my grunts and heavy breathing is drowned out by the music coming from my earbuds.

The place smells like sweat and balls and I hate it - all the more reason to rent out the place.

I work out every morning I am hungover - or afternoon, depending on the previous night's activities - which means I have been to a random gym all over US almost everyday for the past five months.

Like everything I do, even my drinking is excessive. I don't drink until I'm drunk. I drink until I black out and don't remember anything the next day. Iz usually takes care of the bodies, if there is any - which more often than not, there is.

My job hasn't really allowed me to settle down at a place. Or maybe, I haven't. I don't know really, nor do I care.

My playlist ends but I don't stop. I keep punching and kicking, the rhythmic sound of the chain rattling almost putting me in a trance. My arms are shaking and my eyes sting from the sweat rolling down my forehead. I feel my stomach flip, and I know I am seconds away from puking my guts out.

I reach the bucket I bring with me to every workout precisely in time with the bile coming up my throat and out of my mouth, falling to my hands and knees.

Only when I am certain there is no more food or alcohol left to throw up do I allow myself to fall on my back.

"Eight days in a row." Iz says, her voice bored. Which is a sure sign she is pissed. Then again, she has been nothing but bored with me lately.

I didn't even notice her come in.

"What?" I heave, still trying to catch my breath from the workout and the vomiting.

"Your hot streak." She sighs when I glance at her from the side in confusion. "You haven't missed a workout in eight days."

"Well, I did make a resolution to get in shape last Christmas."

"Did you also make a resolution to die pathetically in a puddle of your own vomit and piss?"

I bristle at her condescending tone and sit up - slowly - to give her a hard glare. Which rolls right off her. "What's crawled up your ass this early in the da— Wait, what time is it?"

"It's nearly noon."

Only noon? I feel like I have been awake for days.

"Fuck! I should've woken up later."

What I really mean is, I should've slept through the whole fucking day. At approximately 9 tonight, it'll have been a year since I met him. The one who shall not be named.

I don't dwell on the bone deep ache his memory causes, and focus back on Iz's grumpy face. I am well aware how much she wants to kick my ass these days, and if I weren't working myself out to death every free chance I get, I have no doubt she would have done it a long time ago.