Hour Game

Chapter 13

Right.

Left .

Upper cut.

Sean could feel the force with which he hit the bag. And with each hit, he hit it harder. Soon his knuckles began to go numb yet he kept on punching the bag. The physical sensation wasn't enough to keep his mind trying to block out everything.

Sweat poured down his back, arms pistoned as he punched again and again. Biceps bulged with the exertion, shoulders hard as rock.

"You can't save everybody."

Julia. Macy. Kate.

Kate.

His breathing became labored as he pictured her face. Her smile, her laugh, the way her nose twitched whenever he brought artery-choking breakfast as a white flag.

Five years.

It had been five years since he'd come from the nearby grocery shop to find his kitchen a slaughterhouse. Kate was on the floor, unconscious and severely bleeding out from a neck wound, holding an already dead Macy in her arms. The high velocity round had gone through her right shoulder, shattering the clavicle and hit Macy in the head. And Julia was dead, three fatal GSW to her torso. Her brown eyes stared at the two other victims, as if trying to help them.

He knew Kate had blamed herself for losing them. She never looked him in the eye. He wasn't a stranger to survivor's guilt. But a tiny irrational part of him had blamed her. But it had been Kate who'd brought him back from the ledge he'd been standing. He'd never told anyone but his therapist how close he'd been to putting his Beretta in his mouth and pulling the trigger. She'd pulled him back never realizing what she'd done. And yet he'd kept her away from getting too close. It had taken time; but it had taken every ounce of his strength and will to put one foot in front of the other and get through the day.

That day five years ago something had changed. He'd put up walls that he never realized he was capable of. Funny how losing one's family could do that. He was afraid; of what he didn't know. Maybe going through something like that again.

Or maybe losing Kate.

He stopped the bag in mid swing, hugging it like a life line. He staggered away, shaking. He tried to stop, but he couldn't. The tears trickled down his face, catching his two days' worth of stubble. He fell to his knees suddenly as realization hit him like a semi.

He couldn't lose Kate.

Water splashed into her face woke Kate up. She gagged as some of it went down the wrong way. Spluttering and the owner of a massive headache, she glared at whoever had done it.

"Try poking next time, assbutt," she said, spitting out water.

"Shut up," the man growled. But he poked Nell awake, pissing off Kate. He uncuffed one of her wrists then re-cuffed it around a pole. He did the same to Kate. Then he placed two plastic plates in front of them.

"Eat." He turned and left.

None of them commented on the McDonald meal box. It seemed like hours since they'd eaten something. Once finished, Kate leaned against the wall, closing her eyes, feeling suddenly exhausted. The new bruises and tender ribs made movement difficult. Her jaw ached from where one of the men had punched her. Nell sat a few feet away, legs stretched out in front of her. They'd been moved to floor, wrists cuffed too tightly around pipes.

Noticing the brunette's pallor, Nell asked, "You don't look good. You okay?"

"Yeah? Well I feel worse. Whatever they jammed in me packs helluva punch," she replied, eyes closed. In truth, her head was killing her. Stabs of blinding pain shot between her eyes if she tried focusing on something for too long.