The Eye of the Knife

Chapter 12

Chapter 12

The Feelings that Come with Lies.

That night I didn't get much sleep. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that I was tossing and turning all night long. What is wrong with me?! I groaned to myself as I checked the digital clock next to my bed on the nightstand, again. I didn't understand why I had woken up five times in the last hour. This is no way to sleep! I moaned more to myself as I watched the clock move as yet another minute without sleep ticked past.

Does it have something to do with the guilt? I started to question myself. Maybe my lack of sleep had to do with the fact that I felt bad about not saying anything to Christian. Yesterday started to play in my mind again, and I saw all the places that I should have and could have told him. But instead I was selfish and didn't say a word. It didn't occur to me that he could have worried for the man's safety. Or why he would have worried, that didn't cross my mind either. My heart ached, because I knew both in my mind and in my heart that not telling him was the worst thing that I could have done.

I looked over and saw Christian sleeping soundly, and I cursed at the lucky bastard. Its not like he needed the sleep more than I did, even though he worried nonstop about that man for hours. To me, I was the one that did all the work around here! I was even doing double time, what with teaching him and everything. Does he not know that life was easier when he wasn't around and I could do things without explaining them in detail. To me and the rest of my community, getting in and getting out was better that getting in and sitting there with your hands crossed not moving a muscle.

I groaned as I saw that another five minutes had passed and I was no closer to going to bed. My brain was moving a mile a minute, and there was nothing I could do about that. So in a heated decision, I decided to get up and go downstairs to throw some punches and work out some of my muscles. It needed to be done, I needed some alone time.

Ten minutes, a wardrobe change, and an awkward elevator ride later, and I was standing in front of the door to the workout room. It was smaller than I was used to, but I guess that's what I get for letting Christian pick out the hotel. I made a mental note not to let him do that again as I swiped my room key so the door would allow me access.

I stepped through the doorway, and allowed the small door to swing shut behind me. I took in my surroundings finally noticing how small this room really was. The only machines in here was a treadmill, a bike, and lats pull down. Then there was a small area that held some other things that you would use to tone and work your muscles. And, of course, in the back corner was the punching bag.

I went to the treadmill first and ran a few miles till I was out of breath. I looked at the clock and saw that I had only been down here for an hour. I needed and wanted more. I decided to throw some punches and get out some of the built up frustration.

I walked over to the big black bag, while securing the gloves onto my hands. I had to use some protection against the hard fist throwing that I was about to do. I held the bag, examining it and looking for the best place to land the first hit.

Punch.

That's for allowing someone to know what you do for a living.

Punch.

That's for starting to have feelings.

Punch. Punch. Punch.

This is for being stupid.

That's for allowing yourself to be weak.

This is for not following what you have always told yourself.