There's Something About Him (Complete)

Chapter Fifty Eight - A Fist To The Face

Focussing on my breathing, I felt the burn of dehydration in my throat and the ache of exhaustion in my muscles.

The black bag swung floppily on the chain before I shot out with another fist, hitting it sharply, the pain stinging my knuckles as the throbbing sound of Marilyn Manson poured from the nearby speakers.

I knew that I should stop, my vision was blurred with sweat and I could barely feel my fingers but pounding the bag seemed to be the only thing that successfully took my mind off of things and helped throw me into a dreamless sleep – some days I was even too tired to make it back to my house which was why Heath and his parents had become accustomed to finding me unconscious in the gym or on River's couch.

I knew that everyone was worried about my mental, physical and emotional state since the overdose and River's subsequent disappearance but I couldn't seem to move past the hurt and helplessness enough to do anything but eat, sleep, shower and practice my non-existent kickboxing skills.

It had been two weeks since we'd last heard anything. It was as though River had shed his name and disappeared into nothingness. Even the full weight of Blackbourne Investigations hadn't drawn results and I knew that everyone involved was beginning to buckle under the pressure and depression.

Miranda and Camilla were both facing criminal charges for their actions but that still meant nothing. Learning that the entire reason for Miranda's vendetta meant absolutely nothing even though I found it strangely fitting that I should become the target of a local drug dealer's 'bitch'. Apparently that was something the other students and teachers had known while I had been stupidly ignorant. I mean, how blind had I been for the past few years that I didn't know that!

I hit the bag again, my rage almost a tangible force.

According to the police, Miranda was an undiagnosed sociopath who had fixated on me – scarily enough her interview had wielded the opinion that she may have ended up a serial killer in the future.

Hopefully medication and professional intervention would prevent that possible outcome.

As far as I was concerned, it was all in the past and I just couldn't make myself give a shit about any of it. Except maybe skinning Camilla alive, that might make me smile for a little while.

The first indication of someone intruding on my solitude was the touch of a gentle breeze on my back. Although it was Heath's sanctuary, he had let me hole myself up inside with the doors closed and the music shaking the walls.

Steadily my arms grew sluggish enough that I simply let them drop before I hugged the bag, my forehead pressed into its hard surface.

The music turned down until it was soft background noise before strong hands began working at the sore muscles in my shoulders.

Groaning, I closed my eyes.

"You're killing yourself, Kitten," Heath murmured, his voice carefully blank as it had been since our visit with Camilla.

Not knowing where I stood with him was another thing tearing me apart. He had been solid and comforting, gentle and open with his parents about why River had left and affectionate and supportive when I needed. Shortly, he had been everything that we all needed but I knew that he wasn't dealing himself.

He was broken.

Broken about the attack on me.

Broken about how he had treated his brother.

Broken about what Camilla had revealed and most especially broken by the knowledge that the one person he needed to make it right with wasn't around.