How to Keep a Secret

Chapter 19- Punches

I tried to raise my fist to catch him in the throat, but felt my arms pinned down by his hand. "I'll tell you what I told the other one--burn in hell," I growled. He sighed, dropping me to the floor.

I rolled away and stood up, circling Derrick warily, waiting for the right time to strike. "You mean Roger? He's really not that bad. He's the one I wanted to talk about, actually," he said, dodging everything I threw at him.

"So how about it? We sit down, chat for a bit, no more punches--" he said moving aside so my fist sailed through the air. "--How about it?" I fell to the floor, exhausted.

"I hate you. Why would I ever have a conversation with you without desiring to knee you in the crotch?"

"I have beer? And trust me, you want to hear what I have to say." I sighed, staring vacantly across the mat. "Fine."

"That's more like it," he said, lifting me off the ground and throwing my exhausted body over his shoulder with ease.

*********

"Where are we?" I said warily as Derrick set me down in what seemed to be a dark supply room.

He didn't answer my question. Instead, he unzipped his duffel bag and pulled out a six pack of beer, holding one out to me while he continued rummaging through his bag.

I cracked it open and took a long sip, savoring the bitter taste. I hadn't tasted alcohol since the party after high school graduation, and I swore last time it hadn't tasted this good.

"Come here," he said, leading me to one side of the dark room. He pushed a few boxes aside and tinkered with some remote in his hand until the wall in front of us slid up, revealing the clear night sky stretching out before us.

"So," Derrick said, sitting down on the edge, "do you realize how long you were in the training room?" I looked around at the night sky, trying to count the hours.

"From breakfast till now. And it's about ten at night. Not to be a concerned parent or anything, but twelve hours at a punching bag? I reserve that for really rough nights, and the one you just had shouldn't qualify as one of those," Derrick said, shaking his head.

I stared at him in disbelief. "How dare you make assumptions. You have no idea--"

"How painful it was? How it feels to see your best friend shot? The agony of realizing it's your fault?" Derrick said, pausing to sip his beer. "You have no idea."

I watched him stare out at the stars, and I remembered all his emotionless expressions in training. How much pain do you have to go through to reach a point like that?

"I'm... sorry, Derrick," I said, sitting down to lean on one of the boxes.

"It's over. It happened. You can't erase the past, Gracie, only forge the present." We sat silently, staring out at the stars, drinking.

"Hazel was right, you know. Earlier, when she said... oh what was it... 'they were only doing their jobs,' or something like that."

I turned to face him. "What?"

"You think Roger and I enjoy putting you guys through this? Hell, we've been in your shoes, we know what it feels like, but it's a mission. It's our job, and the sooner you realize that, the sooner you'll come to terms with it. Get over the pain, sweetheart; you haven't even scratched the surface of pain."

I sat, contemplating his words. When I really thought about it, I couldn't blame Roger for what had happened. What was he supposed to do, disobey his orders? I couldn't expect him to do that, not for me.