The Choice

The Choice-Chapter Eight

He must suffer. As he made my dear wife suffer, I will make him suffer. I will take everything he holds dear and destroy it before his eyes...

*****

I've had so much shit thrown at me today, I need to relieve some pressure or I'm going to blow a mental gasket.  As soon as my car was returned, I checked out of the hotel and headed for the gym.

I saw Mark's truck in my rear view mirror the whole way, and chose to ignore him. Thankfully work out clothes were on the list of stuff I bought while I was stuck at the ranch. I changed into a pair of tight shorts, and a sports bra under a tank top in the locker room.

I need more than the treadmill or stationary bikes are going to give me. On the far side of the gym is a door that is marked restricted access. I entered, and found myself in a large room with punching bags hanging around the perimeter, and a boxing ring sitting in the middle. Several men were making use of the bags. In the ring two men were sparring. Both wore helmets, gloves, and mouth guards.

When I entered, the two men in the ring paused and glanced over. "Lexi." The man holding the pads called, his words garbled by the mouth guard. He took off his helmet.

I recognized him immediately. Shawn has been training self defense and martial arts classes in this gym for nearly two decades. He smiled when he saw me.

"What brings you here, kiddo?" He asked as his opponent left the ring, and I approached.

"I need to blow off some steam." I said.

"Yeah." He nodded towards the door behind me. "Anything to do with him."

I looked back. Mark had entered behind me. He had also changed into his work out clothes. Outside the gun range, this is his favorite spot.

I rolled my eyes. "Can't leave me alone for a minute, can you?"

"Not when someone is trying to hurt you." He answered.

I climbed into the ring. Shawn offered me headgear and gloves, I refused, and taped my hands instead.

"Take the gear." Mark ordered, climbing between the ropes. He used the tape on his own knuckles.

"You take the gear." I snapped. I knew he wouldn't. Mark's a tough guy, he doesn't need protection. Ha, little does he know.

This won't be the first sparring session with my big brother. Only one of many. This is one of those things that goes back to my childhood as the youngest, and only daughter. Part of my toughen-her-up-training. I think he enjoyed it back then. Watching me limp out of the ring with a bloody nose, split lip and bruised leg. I guess it was my own fault, I kept coming back for more.

I do not anticipate that this session will be any different. Mark does not intend to let me leave this ring walking. He intends to teach me a lesson, and more than likely he will. But I plan to at least get a few licks in. My training sessions with him ended when I was sixteen, though I continued to train with Shawn until just last year.

Mark's doing his usual dancing around, like he saw the pros do it on UFC. We don't get quite that wild here. Though I've seen him and Paul go at each other like that. I'm sidestepping, slightly slower. He's laughing and taunting. I'm sure he thinks I'm the same uncontrollable kid I was at fifteen when he nearly broke my arm in this ring.

I waited for the right moment, and blocked a few of his hits. He won't ever hit me hard enough to do real damage; just enough to give me a few bruises. I'm a girl, and it's ingrained in his DNA to never do physical harm to a female.