Absolution | +18

Chapter 17

Silas

t's 7:00 am. The steady thud of my fists hitting the punching bag echoed through the empty gym. Each hit felt hollow, an attempt to release something that wasn't there. It didn't matter how many times I struck the bag, how much force I put behind it—the emptiness inside me stayed, clinging like a second skin. I let out a grunt, throwing a few sharp punches in quick succession, my knuckles slamming into the worn leather.

The door creaked open, and Sebastian walked in, yawning loudly. "Why the hell did you call me this early?" he muttered, rubbing his eyes.

"Spar," I huffed, not even bothering to glance at him.

Sebastian's eyes widened immediately. "Hell no, man. Last time we sparred, you nearly took my head off. And that was you being normal. There's no way in hell I'm getting in the ring with you with the way you've been lately. I actually like being alive, thanks."

I rolled my eyes, throwing another hard punch into the bag. "You've been boxing since you were what, eleven? Why are you acting like a pussy?"

"So have you!" Sebastian shot back, clearly defensive.

"If I'd known you were a bitch, I would've called Hayden."

That did it. His ego flared, and with a huff, he started suiting up, strapping on protective pads and even a helmet. When I saw the helmet, I couldn't help but scoff.

"Are you serious?" I asked, voice flat.

"Hell yeah, I'm serious," he muttered, fastening the strap.

We climbed into the ring, the tension between us already palpable. It started off evenly matched. His punches were solid, but I was quicker, lighter on my feet. The sound of our gloves hitting echoed in the empty gym, his blows landing but never hard enough to throw me off balance. We traded a few hits, but it didn't take long for me to start pulling ahead. My fists moved faster, my body slipping past his attacks.

Sebastian swung hard, but I ducked under it with ease, seeing the opening before he even finished his punch. I slammed my fist into his side, the sound of impact reverberating through the gym. He staggered back, gasping for breath, hands raised in surrender.

I just nodded and turned back to the punching bag, the sparring session over in my mind. But the anger wasn't. I needed more. Needed to hit something.

Sebastian limped over, still out of breath and clutching his side in pain. "You sure you're alright, man?" he asked, his voice a little softer. "Ever since Val left the shop, you disappeared."

"Now you're here, trying to murder a punching bag," Sebastian said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He leaned against the ropes, watching me with raised brows. "Looks like you're about to kill it."

I ignored him, my fist colliding with the bag once again, sending it swinging on its chain. Each hit sent a wave of dull pain through my knuckles, but I welcomed it—fed on it, even. It wasn't enough, though. Nothing was.

Sebastian stepped closer, still keeping his distance from the bag, eyeing me with a mix of caution and concern. "Seriously, Silas," he said, a little softer this time. "It's like you actually want to kill something."

I clenched my jaw, not even bothering to look at him. I didn't need to see the look on his face to know what it was—part frustration, part worry. He might piss me off 90% of the time, but he was still my oldest friend. He knew me better than anyone, and that's what irritated me the most right now. He could see through me too easily.

My fist slammed into the bag again, a low grunt escaping me as the leather absorbed the blow. Sebastian didn't say anything for a moment, just watching me with that annoying, knowing expression. The silence stretched on between us, filled only by the rhythmic thud of my punches and the slight creak of the gym as the bag swung back and forth.