Vicious people doing despicable things

6 Of fathers and sons

Nam

Fort doesn't leave my side the whole day. Like a mother hen. Asking about my well-being. Worrying about yesterday. It makes me angrier. I get it, okay, you care, but for once in my life, I just want to be alone and wallow in self-pity. I've got no emotional capacity to be my cheerful, friendly self. I can't talk to Fort. I can't talk about yesterday. I know I'll be bitter and toxic as soon as I open my mouth. I would say how I will finally fulfill my dream of becoming Ai Yong's family member; or how I won't invite Fort and Luc to my wedding with Som because all the other guests there will be extremely homophobic. I'm so freaking angry. I'm angry at Fort for having it all so easily, for having a family who loves and accepts him. I'm freaking angry at Luc because everybody loves him so freaking much. They are so fucking happy. I hate it. They deserve it and I'm happy for them, but I still hate it. I envy them. I want to steal what they have. I'm angry at Milk for leaving me alone. Angry at Mom for always taking Father's side. Angry at Som because she exists and she's nice and innocent. Angry at Mark because he's a fucking jerk and I hate him.

After classes – finally alone – I walk to the parking lot, and I'm so angry and so in my head I don't even notice him at first.

"Nam!" Mark calls. I hear his steps running after me. I keep walking. "Nam, please." I ignore him, opening Lexie's door. Mark slides into the narrow space between me and my car. He's so close to me I can smell his sweat and shampoo. I hate him but his smell calms me down. "I'll do anything," he says. I don't move, just give him my dead-eyed stare. "An ultimate carte blanche. Push me off a bridge, make me work for you, I will go with you anywhere you want. I won't budge. I won't refuse. I promise. Just— don't hate me." The bastard knows how to plead. My heart melts a little. "Please," he begs, eyes wide and pleading. I hate him.

"Get in," I say, nodding at the passenger seat. He smiles, relieved, and runs to the other side of the car. We don't talk. I don't turn the music on. I don't want it to be a fun ride. I want it to be awkward and painful. Mark doesn't ask where we are going. At one point, he pulls his phone out and texts someone. I'm pretty sure it's Luc. I fucking hate them all.

I'm still fuming when we get to the Muay Thai boxing club. Thankfully, the place is closed on Mondays. I open the door for Mark and close it behind me.

"Boxing?" Mark asks as I turn on the lights. "One of your father's property, I guess?"

"Shoes off, gloves on," I command, motioning toward boxes by the ring.

I take off my button-down - I don't bother with boxing shorts, hoping I won't rip my pants. There's a black banner over the lockers with my father's name on it, in gold of course. I used to use it as my motivation to fight when I was a kid. I wasn't sure whether I was fighting for his love or I was fighting him. It didn't matter as long as it got me my wins and Father's approval. Stupid. I was so fucking stupid. I stopped coming here after the whole thing with Yong.

We get into the ring in silence. I strap on the gloves and nod to Mark. Then I blow the first punch.

I fight as if I'm competing or if my father is watching. All the right hooks and kicks. I haven't been in the ring for a long time and I can admit I missed it. It feels good to let yourself go and just punch the hell out of somebody. It's freeing. Empowering.

But Mark doesn't fight back. He tries to block my blows, guarding his face but apart from that, he barely moves, just sways on his feet under my attacks.

"Fight back!" I yell and strike with my knee. "Fight. Back," I scream, blowing a bunch with each word.

"I have no reason to hit you," he says breathlessly and my anger deflates. I resignedly hit his shoulder one more time before dropping my hands. Our breathing is loud in the empty room. There's no anger in Mark's eyes, only sadness. A drop of blood breaks through a fresh cut over his eyebrow, the skin on his cheekbone is bright red. Suddenly I realize that I'm standing half-naked in front of fully clothed Mark. Fuck. What the fuck am I doing? My throat is closing up. Cold waves of guilt tingles on my skin like sweat, making me shiver.