It All Started with a Lie

Chapter 25

I can't stand the sight, so I do what I know will end this quickly, so it will be less for both of us. "I guess we both lied."

I get in my car and in my side mirror I watch her collapse to the ground in sobs, covering her face as I drive away until she is nothing more than a blur in the distance.

The drive home is an agonizing one. I don't even call my sister to tell her I won't be meeting her for dinner.

My home is empty when I arrive and I am almost thankful. I don't know how I'll react if I am forced to tell my little brother what is wrong. I need to pull myself together before the show up.

I head down to the basement, grab the hand wrap from the bookshelf by the door, and wrap my hand in a hurry. I know better than to rush but I do it anyway, desperate to hit something before I shatter.

The first hit to the punching back does nothing, the usual relief of the ricochet of the chains does not find me. I hit it again, with all the force I muster, ignoring the searing pain in my wrist that tells me my wrap is not on properly.

My punches don't clear my thoughts as they usually do.

How could I let this happen? Hit.

I should have never gotten involved with her. Hit.

I should never have slept with her. Hit.

I shouldn't have fallen in love with her. Hit.

There is a tiny voice in the back of my head that screams 'but you did, and how could you not?' and forces me to relive memories of her laugh, how she always spoke her mind.

My punches grow faster, harder, and blood stains the lavender hand wrap a better color, a shade so dark it almost looks black. It drips down my forearm but I don't care, I just need to get her out of my head.

I don't hear the door to the basement open, or footsteps as they descend the staircase to where I stand. "Klaus?" My sister asks and the sound sends a sharp pain through my chest.

I ignore her, hitting the bag again and again. I betrayed her. "Klaus!" She screams as she sees the blood.

She rushes to me, giving me no choice but to stop so I don't rush accidentally hitting her now that she stands between me and the bag. She grabs my wrists and looks at my blood stained hands. I am a monster. Just like my father.

"You're bleeding!"

Her book is on the ground by the stairs, left behind the second she saw me. Its pages are now bent from the blunt force of the fall and it has landed in a pile of rat droppings, but she doesn't care, examining the extent of my injuries.

Now that I have stopped moving, and she is askin me what is wrong, every emotion floods in and it is suffocating so I move her out of the way and throw another punch at the bag to which she screams for me to stop. I don't, I can't. I don't want to think about Alexandria. That we are over. That she lied to me.

My tries desperately to push me away from the bag, wrapping her arms around my torso and shoving me as hard as humanly possible but I am sturdy and don't move an inch. She cries and begs me to stop but it's like my bogey has a mind of its own, ignoring her pleas. She clings to me, the only thing she knows to do as she has never seen me like this. I never wanted her to.

My mind begs for me to stop, I am scaring her, but the pain that every hit brings is addicting and washes away the memories of Alexandria, of laying with her in my arms.

My knee buckles as Bea kicks the back of it and we collapse. I hit the floor with a thud, catching her before she can hit her head on the concrete floor. I gasp for breaths and she grabs a rag to press it to my wounds but before she can my eyes brim with tears, for the first time in three years. I cover my face quickly but she does not need to see to know what is going on.