Chapter 18

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[Iris]

Bam!
Bam-Bam!

Her gloved fists attacked the lifeless punching bag with an obvious fury. Each punch was punctuated by the harsh sound of leather on leather. She swung at it again with an impeccable right hook and the bag jiggled back, the chains jittering in protest. Her head was a storm of thoughts and emotions that she had to let out and punching away at a poor, defenceless bag allowed her to release all her pent-up emotions without having to work through them. It was unhealthy, she knew, but it hurt less.

Her most recent interactions with Barry had conjured up ghosts she thought she'd forgotten. First the public humiliation at the party, then his unprofessional tardiness and the fact that he didn't even have the courtesy to apologise for either. His actions spoke volumes of the level of respect he attributed to her and at that moment it seemed to be below zero. Yet even through all that, seeing him in his bare state awakened a sinful craving inside her that she hadn't felt in a while. Atleast not with this much force and that very reaction was the reason why she was attacking that punching bag with all she had. She was eliminating all types of frustrations from her body be they mental or sexual.

"Dang sis, what did that bag ever do to you?" Wally teased and Iris hugged the bag to her to stop it before she turned around to look at him. He was standing in the doorway that lead from the house to the back yard with his hands casually tucked into his jeans pockets and a mildly concerned look on his face.

"Nothing, just needed to blow off some steam. What's up?" She diverted.

"Wanna talk about it?" Wally pressed on, completely ignoring her question and stepping through the threshold towards her.
She hung her head in defeat, knowing that her brother would not drop the subject until he was satisfied that she was OK.

"You're not gonna let this go are you?" She asked the floor.

"Nope. I'm glad you've realised that on your own. Saves us some precious talk time," he answered.

Iris sighed out in defeat and walked across the wodden patio to the picnic table they had set out on the opposite end while she undressed her gloved hands. It was a quiet Monday morning and the silence was calming, occasionally interrupted by the distant cry of a passing bird. She sat down and peeled the sweat drenched shirt off of her as her brother took the seat opposite her. When she looked up to meet his gaze she found it trained below her face and was about to call him out for being a disgusting perve when she remembered her scar. It was a small jagged line on her abdonem just below her left breast, yet another mark from that day that haunted her and this one was particularly cruel.

This one wasn't as safely hidden as the one on her hair that rested invisible beneath a layer of her cascading curls. This one was easily forgotten once she dressed up and went about her business but at the end of the day when it came time to rest and those clothes came off it would jump out at her in her reflection, scaring her back into a memory she couldn't seem to escape.

"I'm sorry I don't mean to stare I just, I forget that it's there. I hate that scar." Wally  confessed beneath his breath, the anger startling and woven into his words.

"It's OK. I hate it too. You're lucky enough to be able to forget it. I have to have the pleasure of it lighting up in my face like an annoying motel neon sign at night." She chuckled weakly and with that ever present pain reserved for whenever that particular topic was brought up.

"I'm sorry sis. You didn't deserve what that bastard did to you. If dad hadn't kept me in the hospital that night I might have done something stupid." Wally growled and Iris offered him a sad smile of gratitude.

"He's not worth the trouble you would have gotten into for giving him an ass whopping."

"Yeah but I'd only be returning the favour, and with just cause too which is more than I can say for what he did." He retorted. His fists were on the table and wound so tightly that his knuckles began to pale.

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