Playing With Fire

Chapter Twenty-Seven

                                                  Recap 

         Travis jerks up and covers the distance with determination in his dead set gaze. I watch with caution as he places both his hands on my shoulders. He leans down at stares at me levelly.

            “Yes,” He corrects, “You can.”

            “I’m sorry Travis,” I reply, stepping out of his grip, “But I can’t.”

            Before he can say anything else—before I can—I spin on my heel, grab my bag, and fast walk out of the room. Travis doesn’t say a word, and I don’t expect him to.

            As I start to jog down the hallway, I feel tears brim at the ridges of my eyes. Shock, confusion, frustration, anger…all these emotions cloud my senses, leaving me an emotional wreck. My heartbeat starts to grow louder, louder than the pumping of my blood, and I hear it travel through every inch of my body.

            The only thing I can think of now is getting home.

            I push further and use my body to ram through the entrance of the gym door. Only, when I glance up, I notice the same three people the left the building earlier blocking my escape route.

            With their hands in their pockets, and smirks on their faces, they watch in amusement as I start to walk backwards.

            “Hello Faye,” One of them states, grinning at my retreating figure. 

                                                   Twenty Seven 

                                                         Travis     

           I gasp for the air that had left my lungs so quickly when I chucked my boxing gloves across the room. My heaving only makes me more frustrated, and my fingers throb with a seductive urge to destroy something.

            Clumsily, I seize my duffle bag by its handles and struggle to swing it away from me. The betrayal and disbelief that bleeds through my reopened scars makes my vision blurry and red. Red for all the anger directed right at Faye. 

            Another surge of incredulity passes through me as I replay the entire conversation I had with her. Just thinking about it—about the way she looked at me—it makes my guts clench with a feeling I’ve never expressed since I left the gang. Hurt.

            I slam the gym bag to the floor in agony when its handles become too tangled in my grip for me to chuck. A resounding thud echoes in the empty room, and I look around at last, angrily brushing a hand through my hair in the process.

            I’m furious with her—furious over the fact that she can’t just stay at my side and believe me. I’m angry over how defenseless and hopeless I feel whenever it comes to persuading her.

            Truth be told, I'm done. 

            I exhale sharply while bringing a hand to rest on my forehead. In an attempt to calm myself down, I clamp my eyes shut, trying to visualize my next move. As much as it contradicts everything I have been saying and thinking, I don’t have a choice. I have to do this alone now. I can’t have someone always second-guessing me—I can’t have Faye running away from me, not when she can get killed in the blink of an eye.    

            Absentmindedly, I rub my temples as the stress elevates to an unbareable pressure. The pounding grows excessively louder each time I probe at the corners of my brain.