"Wake up, Gracie. It is happening. That man is dead, you hear me, dead in the other room, because of you," Roger's voice rang in my head, and I punched a little harder, choking back a sob.
"She's dead, Gracie. Because of you. Because of your stubbornness." I landed a kick on the side of the bag, relishing the jolt of pain that ran down my shin.
"I must admit, seeing the light go out of those bright green eyes of his would be thrilling."
"There goes another one. You're running out of friends, Gracie."
"How many friends and family members have to die by your stubbornness?"
Roger's words echoed in my head, causing me to rain down blows on the punching bag. It felt good, it felt free—to inflict pain. I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts, and Roger's voice was replaced with a new one.
"That side of me never quite went away. The side that almost... enjoys it. Hurting people," Cam's voice resounded in my ears, echoing in my brain, and I struck, feeling the punching bag give way under my fist.
"Rough day huh?" I heard Derrick plop his duffel bag down beside me as he leaned against the punching bag next to mine. At the sound of his voice I stopped, breathing heavily.
"Please, don't stop on my account," he said lightly, and I turned, meeting his icy blue eyes with a blank stare before turning to leave. "Why are you running away, huh?"
"I don't want to do something I'll regret," I said calmly, not bothering to turn around.
"Regret? Like what, beating the living daylights out of me? You couldn't even if you tried."
I kept walking, concentrating on my breathing. Derrick had hurt my friends one too many times, and I was worried that the slightest word might set me off.
"See, none of you can. That's the sad part; nobody ever fights back. What happened to bravery, courage? I thought Hazel had it, but she broke way too quickly. Hell, I've broken her so many times... I almost feel sorry for her. But I don't."
I froze, slowly turning around to face him. He was lost in thought, looking at his fingernails. "Yeah, she's a real feisty one. Good thing I didn't have to add any more bruises to her pretty little face." He glanced up at me, feigning boredom, though his eyes told a different story— he looked at me like some sort of prey, daring me to throw a punch in his direction.
I walked back towards him, anger filling me with every word he uttered. "And Cam. Poor kid, he's been through a lot--but who of us hasn't, honestly? And don't even get me started on Theo. He's got more psychological issues than I do--"
I tried to slam my fist into Derrick's gut, but his hand shot out and caught it, his icy eyes meeting mine with an inquisitive lack of expression.
"What, you really thought I wasn't paying attention?" I swung my left foot up to his side and he caught it, throwing me to the floor.
"Interesting thing about anger," he said, dodging my punches with ease, "Is that it blinds people."
I felt his elbow hit me in the gut before I saw him move, and the next thing I knew he was cradling me like a child. "Calm down a bit. How about we stop this me-beating-you-to-a-pulp thing and just sit down and talk, like normal adults?"
YOU ARE READING
How to Keep a Secret
Romance"I know your type," he said, piercing me with his unwavering gaze, as if daring me to contradict him. "My type?" "You don't know where you're going, or what you want to do with your life. And yet you have such potential," he said, suddenly leaning f...
