Perfect Addiction

ONE

But my theory was bullshit. I feel both. Raw and definite.

Hot tears stream down my face as I snatch a bandage roll from my gym bag and wrap it around my knuckles. They'll probably hurt for a while, which means I might need a few days off from the gym to give them some time to heal.

I came to the gym after I mustered up the courage to return to the apartment a second time, with the sole purpose of clearing all my things from my room and getting the hell out of there as fast as I could. Jax wasn't there this time, and Beth did little to fight for me to stay, instead silently retreating into her room while I stuffed my clothes and whatever else I could into my bag and left. It was better that way. She probably knew that if she tried confronting me again things would get real ugly. My fists were aching to hit something, and while I knew that Jax could take it, there was no way in hell Beth could.

And I've showed them enough of my vulnerability for one night.

So instead, I'm here with the punching bag as my,
well . . . punching bag. The Universal Fighter's Gym has always been a safe haven for me, the place where I feel the most at home when the world feels like it's caving in. I've been working as a mixed martial arts trainer since last summer, and I have every intention of turning that into a full-time gig once I've graduated from college.

As much as I'm on good terms with the boss who runs the place—Julian—he'll kill me if he finds me using the gym as my sleeping quarters. And jeopardizing my career over this is simply not worth it.

I still need a place to stay. There's no way I'm going back to the apartment.

My sister and my boyfriend are officially dead to me.

Staying with friends is out of the question too. When I called to tell Dakota and Trevor, my friends since high school, what had happened, I was shocked to hear that they were already aware of Beth and Jax's affair but hadn't had the heart to say anything to me because they "didn't want me to get hurt." As if that makes the least bit of sense.

So that just leaves family.

But family hasn't felt like a family in a long time. I haven't talked to my dad in weeks now. And last I heard, my mom was dancing with strangers in the heart of Rio.

I let the tears dry on my face for a little while longer before picking myself off the mats. I yank my bag over my shoulder and shut off the lights to the gym, then head out. I'm immediately greeted with the rain. It pelts lightly at my body at first, but soon soaks my clothes as it continues to pour. The winter chill has already begun to attack my wet skin, and while I usually don't mind the cold, I loathe it when it's combined with rain.

I wipe the rain off my face with the back of my arm, but I think I'm wiping away angry tears instead. I'm not sure.

Maybe I'm raining tears.

I don't think I've felt like I've ever hit rock bottom until now.

I have no home. No friends. No family. No boyfriend and no sister.

Bitter resentment crawls into my heart when I think about the both of them. How could they? I didn't think either had it in them to do something so malicious. Especially my sister.

Sweet, kind, soft-spoken Beth. She and I are so different that sometimes our friends would forget that we were related. Beth is artistic, shy but incredibly well-mannered—to the point where my dad truly believes that she's his biggest achievement to date. As much as I aspired to be like her, I just couldn't bring myself to stay away from trouble, getting sucked into the violent world of MMA and choosing to make a career out of it too. But that didn't mean that Beth and I didn't get along. We pushed each other's buttons, as sisters do, but when it came down to it, we had each other's backs. More so after our parents' divorce.