Part 9: Sentimental

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Yolarie.

Punch.

James.

Punch.

"Ahem."

I sighed and continued to throw jabs at the punching bag. It was the only thing keeping me from ripping the skin off these people.

"What do you need?" I asked.

Titus walked around me to meet my eyes. I refused to look at him.

"You're punching wrong. You can hurt yourself that way."

"Awesome," I said as my knuckles started to blister.

I've been at it for hours. I didn't think I had so much energy in me until now.

Titus ran a hand over his face with a heavy sigh then pulled off his shirt. I could see his tattoo fully now.

The black wing really did start from his back, but...I didn't think he'd have so many scars.

"Move," he said.

I backed away and stared at his torso, watching his muscles ripple with each movement.

He started throwing punches from left to right at a pace I didn't think was possible.

He was so focused. He really was the monster he seemed to be.

He landed one final blow and he sent the punching bag flying off its chain. Not a drop of sweat appeared on him.

He exhaled and looked at me as he took a knife from his boot, "Come here."

Oh boy.

•••

I hit the floor over twenty times during these lessons and my mind started to go crazy.

This fighting shit was too hard.

I sat up and grunted, feeling a slow sting in my side. I was burning. "There's no way I'll be able to fight men like you."

"That's why I'm teaching you," he said, "so you can kill guys like me."

"I'm not a killer," I hissed.

He helped me up, "I know, but you're going to have to fight like one if you want to make it to your precious Yoyo alive."

"Don't ever speak her name again, murderer."

"There's that look," he smirked.

He grabbed my sides and turned me away from him, putting his arm around my neck, with my back against his stomach "Now..." he put his mouth near my ear, "what do you do when a guy puts you in a hold like this?"

Anger washed over me and I threw my head back, moving my leg quickly between his ankles and flipped him over by the arm he was choking me with.

He laughed as he hit the floor and I sank back to the ground, out of breath.
He was so heavy.

"You're starting to get the hang of it."

I held my wrist which began to feel sore.

He propped his arm on his knee as he sat up, "Need a break?"

I looked at him and got on my feet, "No."

"Good," he stood and stretched his arms over his head, "because I wasn't going to give you one."

I really felt like cursing him out.

He went to grab handcuffs from a bag and came back to me, locking my arms above my head. He never took his eyes off of mine.

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