38. Lyssa
Lyssa
“Great session today, everyone,” Paul says, tossing a towel over his shoulder. “We’ll pick this back up on Tuesday.”
The entire class lets out a collective sigh, happy to be released from the intense workout. Andi and I glance at each other, still working to catch our breath. “Is it just me, or is he getting stronger as he gets older?” she asks.
I squirt a steady stream of water into my mouth and nod. “At this rate, he’s going to do a marathon for his birthday this year.”
“And then for his sixtieth, he’ll be ultra-marathoning.”
“He’ll be asking us to join him for a triathlon at his retirement party.”
We laugh and continue firing off scenarios as we cool down.
It feels good to discuss something so simple.
Andi came over yesterday as soon as I called, and she hasn’t left my side since.
Though it’s been nice to have company, of course she wanted to know what happened, and so I had to tell her.
Admitting the worst parts of my past, twice over, left me mentally drained.
I think she knows it, because she didn’t push about the argument with Benji that followed. She simply listened, then hugged me and offered up a movie marathon. I’d gratefully accepted, but my mind kept racing, even after the movies finished and we went to bed.
I know Andi has been trying her best to keep me preoccupied – she stuck with me through brunch this afternoon, and now the gym this evening – but I think we both know I really just need to have another conversation with Benji.
Everything about yesterday caught me off guard, and I know I wasn’t thinking rationally when I pretty much kicked him out of my apartment.
It was just too much, too fast, and I told Andi that.
“Trust me, girl,” she’d said, a knowing frown on her face. “I get not being on the same page with your partner. You’ve just got to figure out where your head’s at first, then take it from there.”
If only that was the easy part.
I sigh as I turn over the conversation in my head for the hundredth time, Andi seemingly lost in thought next to me as well. We’re just about done stretching when Paul ambles over to us.
“Hey, I’ve got a dinner with Bella to get to. Does one of you mind locking up on your way out?”
Andi shakes her head. “Sorry, but I’ve got to run to the pharmacy before it closes.”
“No worries,” I say. “I can lock up.”
“Thanks, kiddo.” Pauls shoots me a grateful smile. Andi looks at me guiltily, clearly not wanting to leave me in my current state. I give her a reassuring nod, and after a moment’s hesitation, she packs up to leave.
I take my time closing up, giving my boxing gloves a deep clean and leaving them to air dry. The extra love the gym has received in the past few weeks makes it even more peaceful now, and I relish the alone time in one of my favorite places.
The second I step outside and lock up the back exit, however, the mood changes. The quiet feels pressurized, like a balloon about to pop, and the hair on the back of my neck stands on end.
Am I being watched?
I freeze, immediately on high alert. There’s nobody around – at least, not that I can see. It’s past sunset, but the street is well-lit, and there are no figures on the sidewalk. Still, I decide to wait a little while longer in the gym, hoping the ominous feeling will go away.
I unlock the back door to the gym and slip back inside. Not thirty seconds later, I hear the crunch of footsteps on snow pass by the door. My breath catches, and I hold it, listening as the steps subside.
Even though I’ve lost the sound of the footfalls, I can still feel the weight of someone’s presence.
I wait five minutes, then peer out the window of the gym. Everything is silent. I will myself to relax.
For so long, I’ve been jumpy, anticipating the worst. It was probably just someone passing by at an inappropriate time. I’ll be back on the main road in a block, and from there it’s a quick walk home. I gather my keys and phone and take a deep breath, opening the door again.
I don’t make it more than two steps outside before a crushing weight slams into me from the side.
My phone clatters to the ground, and I claw against the arm that wraps around my waist, though it’s like trying to move iron.
A startled cry slips past my lips, but it’s cut short with a palm that slaps over my mouth.
All I can do is kick out helplessly as I’m dragged back into the gym. The voice that reaches my ears is the one that’s haunted my nightmares for months, and my life for years before that.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t find you?”
Austin stands between me and the gym exit. His eyes are wild, reddened as if he hasn’t slept well, has been drinking, or both.
I’m frozen, taking in the scene in front of me with a detached sense of reality.
He paces like a caged animal, even though I’m the one who’s trapped. “Do you think this is some kind of game, Alyssa?”
He pulls my name out in three long syllables, in that familiar way he always did when he was about to strike. I shake my head, my pulse hammering in overdrive as my mind races.
The front of the gym is behind me, but it’s already locked, and in the time it would take me to unlock it and run out, he’d be on me. A fresh wave of terror dawns on me as I realize I don’t even know if he’s got a weapon on him. I’m beginning to feel dizzy from the rush of panic.
Through the flood of sensations, a rational thought flits by, and I grab onto it. You’re panicking. But you knew this could happen. You prepared for this. What will you do now?
I grasp that question and try to breathe, forcing back the hyperventilation. Austin has stopped pacing, his eyes fixated on me as he runs his hands through his hair.
I clench my own hands into fists, the tingling, balmy sensation of fear having traveled all the way through my fingertips. Focus. What’s the next step?
“Whatever this is–” he gestures wildly around him. “–it’s over. It’s time to come home.”
A sour taste coats my mouth. He won’t simply let me go, but even if I escape him, won’t he just keep coming back?
“This is my home now,” I answer carefully. I take a few steps, positioning myself just far enough away that he can’t grab for me, but I can reach him with a well-placed kick. He shifts with me, his face contorting in confused rage.
“This place?” He laughs without humor. “This freezing shithole?”
“Yes,” I reply quietly. “This is my home. I’m staying here. We’re done, Austin.”
“No.”
His voice raises only slightly, but my gut reaction is immediate, telling me I need to be more alert. I step back once more, trying to gain more distance between us.
The difference between Austin and Benji is so clear now, I’m amazed I didn’t see it before.
No matter how loud Benji and his teammates get, it never has the dark undercurrent of violence that Austin’s tone has.
His entire demeanor is a stark contrast to everyone in my life now, the sense of wrongness in him so apparent after letting my instincts guide me freely for the past few months, rather than tamping them down to safely accommodate him.
“Is this because of him?” he spits out.
Benji. He knows about Benji. Of course he does; he had to have seen the article of us together. The one that mentioned us kissing.
I blink.My mouth opens to answer, but nothing comes out. Do I say yes? Will knowing there’s another man in my life hold more weight than me denying him for myself? Or will it only add another victim to his list?
It doesn’t end up mattering. I’ve taken too long to respond. He’s back to pacing, but this time it’s toward me. “No,” he mutters. “You belong to me, and we’re going home, now.”
I stumble back, but he swallows up the ground between us.
He lunges for my wrists and on instinct, I whip them up, bracketing my face as I would in any boxing class.
Something inside me clicks, and my focus narrows, muscle memory barreling forward and banishing my fear to the back recesses of my mind.
As his palms curl around my wrists, I plant my feet firmly and tug one hand to lay flat across my chest. His hand comes with, still on my wrist, but I twist my elbow over his hand and bring it down, breaking his hold.
Without missing a beat, I ram my freed hand into the arm that’s still gripping my opposite wrist, and add an elbow to his chest. He stumbles back a step, his hold broken, but it’s not enough, not enough distance, and not enough to fill the growing rage and terror roiling in me.
I ground my feet and lash out with a firm side kick to his solar plexus. He doubles over, gagging.
Go, go! Again, that rational voice commands from the back of my mind, and I take a precious second to compare my options. Do I try to go around him, to the back exit, or go unlock the front door?
Front door, I decide, and spin around, making a dash for it. I hear a wheeze behind me, and then footsteps following, gaining traction. My heart leaps into my throat as I skid to a stop in front of the door, turning the latch over.
I’m twisting the handle just as arms reach around me, solid as steel, wrapping me so tightly I can feel my bones grind together. I’m lifted off the ground, and my kicks land helplessly as I squirm in his arms.
“You’re going to pay for that,” he snarls. “When we get back–”
“No!” I gasp, lashing harder. Finally, a kick against his loin lands. His grip loosens, and I use that to escape out of his grasp.
I scramble to my feet, gaze locked on the front door, but as I take the first steps, I’m wrenched back from my ponytail. I cry out from the pain, tears springing to my eyes.
I reach back to loosen his grasp, but it’s already gone.
I’m being spun around, my back slamming into the wall.
His hands reach for my neck, and I duck my chin down, attempting to stave off what I know is coming.
Even before he wraps his fingers around me, I feel my throat constricting, the impending pain imprinted on my brain like a cruel tattoo.
I wrap my hands around his wrists, but my grip doesn’t even reach all the way around. His arms and hands are too large, too impenetrable.
I should have known; should have known that even with months of training, I would be no match for him at his worst. I send out a silent apology to all those who tried to help me become stronger these past few months. Andi. Bella. Paul. Benji. They wouldn’t want to see me like this.
No, I realize. They wouldn’t. They would want me to be a fighter.
Fight.
With one final gasp, I grit my teeth and twist, raising my arm and slamming my elbow down on his grip. As it loosens enough for me to tilt toward the ground, I lash out, punching him square in the groin. Again, he grunts and bends over in pain.
But I don’t stop there. I send a knee to his chest, followed by a kick.
Then I use my fists. I go for him out of a combination of fear and rage, knowing that if I leave him with enough energy to follow me this time, I might not escape.
I have to do whatever it takes to get free of him, here and now.
When he’s finally the one backing away from me, I take a few tentative steps back, my chest heaving and eyes glued to him. He doesn’t meet my gaze, and I can feel the power shift in this moment. He wasn’t expecting me to put up a fight like this.
“I’ll say this for the last time, Austin,” I choke out. “Leave me alone. Forever.”
With that, I turn and sprint out of the gym. Pain is blossoming across my body, both from where I’ve been grabbed and where I’ve dealt blows, but I barely acknowledge it. All I care about is getting to a public space where I know I’ll be safe.
I see three figures moving toward the gym, and head their way at a clip faster than a normal walk, but not fast enough to alarm them.
When I see who the figure in front is, however, I break out in a dead run, at the same time he does.
Benji.
I skid to a stop in front of him, emotion rendering me incapable of speech. Benji’s gaze sweeps over me hurriedly. He doesn’t say a word, but as he takes in my face and my neck, his eyes grow noticeably darker.
He begins to twist away, already focusing on the gym behind me, but I grab his jacket like it’s a lifeline. “Please.”
It’s a single word, but he hears everything behind it.
He stops to face me once more, and a choked sob slips past my lips when he reaches a hand up to my face.
His rigid expression softens, and he gathers me into his chest, the movement so tender that the mental wall I threw up in the gym shatters completely.
I begin to cry in earnest. Great, heaving sobs rip from my throat as I allow myself to be swallowed up in Benji’s embrace. I barely hear the approaching footsteps, the sound of Benji’s muffled voice as he says gruffly, “I’ve got her. He’s in the gym.”
Two voices respond – Grant, maybe Jordie?
– and then it’s just Benji and me again.
He’s a solid, immovable force, holding up against the waves of my emotions.
The only movement is the palm of his hand, rubbing softly against my back.
My sobs subside into hiccups, and then disappear altogether.
Still, he doesn’t move, waiting for me to pull back.
I do eventually, but not all the way. It feels like gravity is resting its center between the two of us, and if I pull away too quickly, the security I feel being in his arms will disappear. Instead, I lean back to see his face, still clutching his jacket in my grip.
“You came,” I say, wincing at the rawness of my voice.
Benji moves one arm away, but only to cradle my cheek in his palm. “Of course I came.” He exhales shakily. “I’m only sorry I couldn’t be here sooner to keep you safe.”
“I am safe,” I whisper. “Now.”
His eyes skim over my face once more, but this time, his gaze is all tender affection. He’s reassured himself that I’m here, and I’m okay.
I’m here.
I’m safe.
I survived.
A few final tears well in my eyes at the thought, and I sniff, trying to chase them away.
“I’ve got you, little fighter.” Benji swipes a tear away with the pad of his thumb. “I’m here for you. Always.”