Hook'd (24 page)

After a moment, Reese picked up his gloves. She observed them for a bit, then slid her hands into them.

"Now, what you ‘bout to go do with that?" He smirked.

"Watch me." She got up and walked to the heavy bag. He lifted a brow. When she threw punches at it, he laughed at how terrible she looked.

"Horrible," he called out.

Ignoring him, she continued to strike the bag and it only made him cringe. Her techniques were all wrong.

"You're doing it all wrong, babe."

She huffed, giving up. "Fine. Teach me then."

He placed his container down then approached her.

"First off, you shouldn't even be using these without a hand wrap. Could hurt your hands." He slid the gloves off. He then went into his office for a hand wrap and gloves her size. When he entered the gym, he found her kicking off her heels and unbuttoning her blouse.

"Really ready to learn, huh?" he teased.

She nodded, tossing her blouse to the side, baring herself in a tank top and skirt.

He stood before her and began wrapping her hands. He then slid on her gloves, before tying them properly.

"Alright, before we begin, you gotta learn the defensive stance. So, do this..." He showed her the proper stance and she mirrored his movements.  When he placed his fists up by his chin, she did the same. "Good. Always remember to protect your chin. You never wanna get in that ring without your hands up."

He then taught her different punching techniques, such as right and left hooks, jabs and counter punches. Like he expected, her techniques were off but she wasn't too bad, given it was her first time boxing. What she had though, was power in her punches. Which was a great thing. It just needed to be honed the right way.

"So, let's say someone tries to choke you? What do you do?" she asked.

"Choke me? Then, they'll be disqualified. Can't do that in boxing."

"Alright, what about outside of boxing? What would you do?"

"You mean, like in the streets? Well, there's a lot of shit you could do."

"Like what?"

"Alright, let's say I came up to you and did this." He reached for her neck and she slapped his hand away with a glare. He stood there, taken aback.

She looked away, fiddling with her gloves. "Sorry. Reflexes."

He nodded, understanding. "Alright, let's try this again. If I walked up to you and did this..." He softly grasped her neck. "You could kick me in the balls then throw a punch to the nose. And always go for the nose, since it’s the most sensitive part of your face."

"So, what if he tries to choke me from behind?"

"A man, you mean?"

She cleared her throat. "I mean, anybody. What do you do?"

"So, if I did this." He stepped behind her and snaked his arm around her neck. The sweet scent of her perfume emitted her skin and he licked his lips, loving the way she smelled. Unable to resist, he placed soft kisses on her neck and she squirmed a bit.

"Cam, seriously. Focus."

"Alright, my bad." He forced himself to continue. "So, if I tried to choke you, make sure you never lean back, only forward. Then try to grab my fingers up top."

"Wait, my gloves."

He untied her gloves and removed them.

"Okay, continue," she spoke.

He reverted to his position around her neck. "Reach up and grab my fingers like this..." He brought her hand up to his. "Try to grab the thumb or pinky, if you can. Then bend it and twist my wrist. As hard as you can."

She bent his fingers, twisting his wrist and his grip loosened.

"Good." He nodded. "You got it?"

"Yeah."

"Why do you wanna learn this anyway?" He wondered.

"Just curious."

He lifted his chin, giving her a skeptical look. "I don't know...you might try to beat my ass one day."

"Maybe," she joked.

"Oh, then I'm definitely staying my ass away from you."

She chuckled, placing on her gloves. She then approached the heavy bag with a deep breath. She stared at it for a long moment, then threw punches at it. She swung with speed he didn't expect. She punched and punched, not once stopping. She spewed out obscenities, screaming at the bag as she struck with such rage. He watched with discomfort, wondering what had gotten into her. After a while, she stopped with heaving breaths and bent over with her hands on her knees, crying.

"Reese." He rushed to her. "What's wrong?"

She continued to sob, and he grew more concerned.

"Talk to me. What happened?" He rubbed her back softly.

She stood up, shaking her head and slid off her gloves. When she turned away, he placed a hand on her waist to stop her.

"Reese, talk to me. What's the matter?"

Her reddened eyes clouded with such pain, and it worried him. Why couldn't she just talk to him? What was going on with her? He stepped closer, rubbing her tears away. "You could trust me. You know that."

Her face softened.

"You could trust me," he assured her again. He could see her barrier slowly beginning to break down as they held each other’s gaze. And his not once faltered. He wanted to show her the truth in them. To let her know he meant every word he spoke. "Tell me what's wrong" he whispered. Her mouth opened, as though she began to speak. And he waited...

She stepped back. "I'm fine."

He clenched his jaw, frustrated.

"I'll let you get back to your work out." She placed on her clothes.

His trainer walked in. Cam watched as she gathered her stuff.

"I'm a call you later, alright?" he assured.

She nodded then left.

"Listen for the last time, stop calling this fucking number!"

"C'mon, baby. You know that ain't gonna happen."

"Yeah, and see if I don't report your ass to the police," Reese threatened, gripping the phone tighter.

"Nah, I don't think you wanna do that."

"Try me."

"Go ahead. You'll be dead before you even finish dialing the number."

His threat arose cold shivers down her spine. She hated how he was able to instill fear into her, even after all of these years. His sinister laugh permeated through the line, only making her cringe.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Ain't nothing but a weak bitch. I'm a see you around, though. Just you wai—"

She hung up the phone. Leaning against the stall door, Reese fought back an angered scream. She didn't know what to do. She couldn't report him to the authorities. Sure they could probably trace the number. But he would only find her, and kill her like he said he would. And she believed him. She learned after everything he put her through, to never take his word lightly.

She couldn't believe she was dealing with this after all these years. She thought she would never have to see him again. She had tried so hard to move on. And now he had found a way to reappear into her life.

In that moment, painful memories she could no longer fight, rushed back like a treacherous storm.

The rain pummeled the ground, flooding the atmosphere with aggression under the darkened skies. It drummed with rage. Articulating her pain through the thick silence. She ran her fingers across her battered face, her swollen eyes, bruised nose and lips, and blemished skin, cringing at the touch.

3 years.

3 years into this marriage. 3 years of hell. He had stripped her of her dignity. Dehumanized her. Broken her down into nothing.

She glanced over her shoulder and grimaced. Just the sight of him made her sick. The way he looked. The way he smelled. The way he touched her. Everything about him, she hated.

She faced forward. Her mind raced with thoughts, as snippets of her life flashed before her eyes. The thought of living the rest of her life like this haunted her. She couldn't take it. All she wanted was to be loved. To be cared for. But he found a way to break her down. Just like everyone else in her life. But not anymore. She was sick of it. She was sick of it all.

She slid away and his grip around her tightened. She gasped.

"Where you goin'?" he grumbled.

"Um, bathroom," she forced out.

After a moment, he loosened his grip and turned over. When he drifted back to sleep, she let out a breath of relief. Sliding away, she got out of bed. She tiptoed around the bed, careful not to awaken him then grabbed her suitcase. She pulled her clothes out of her drawer and packed them.

"What are you doing?"

She froze.

The bed shifted and she spun around to see him, sitting up.

He turned on the lamp and his frown deepened at the sight.  

"I'm leaving you."

"What?"

"I'm leaving you. I'm sick of this! I can't do this anymore."

He rubbed his trimmed beard, not uttering a word. The pattering rain filled the silence as her words lingered the thick air.  The vein at his temple bulged and she felt his anger brewing by the minute. Her heart pounded in her chest. She glanced around, figuring out her next move.

"Get back in the bed, Reese."

"No."

He let out a deep breath. "I'm gonna tell you for the last time. Get back in the bed or—"

She rushed to the nightstand and grabbed his pistol. She pointed it at him. He barely budged, unfazed.

"I'm leaving," Her hands trembled as she gripped the cold steel in her palms. "Whether you like it or not."

His menacing laughter filled the air, only igniting her rage.

"So, what are you gonna do? Kill me?" He taunted.

She tightened her grip, urging to see his brains splatter out of his skull.

"And then what? Huh?" He rested his elbows on his lap, his foot tapping the wooden floor. "Where you gonna go? You ain't got shit else. What? You think some other nigga's gonna want you? C'mon, love. You know that ain’t gonna happen. Shit, ya own parents didn't even want you."

Her heart pained at his cold words. She fought back tears, trying her hardest not to crumble at his insults.

"Yeah..." His lips lifted into a sinister smile. "Look at you. You ain't nothing but a weak bitch. How you think I was able to get you so easily? Huh? You was just another worthless bitch I could control, that's it. You ain't shit and you never gonna be. If you wanna kill me, then do it."

Her finger latched the trigger.

"I said, do it bitch!"

She pulled the trigger.

The room was silenced.

Expecting to hear the boisterous noise of the gun, she was surprised when all she heard was the click of the empty chamber. She looked at him, and his lips lifted into a devious grin. She pulled the trigger again.

Nothing.

"Ugh!" She slammed the gun into her palm, frustrated.

"Ain't no bullets you stupid bitch."

He charged at her and slammed her to the floor. He pummeled his fists into her face, and she cried in aguish with each blow. He strangled her.

"You think you strong? Huh? You ain't strong! I'll break ya ass down you fucking worthless bitch!"

She struggled for air. Writhing in panic, she gripped his hands urging for a release. He tightened his grip, clenching the air from her throat. Her eyes welled with tears of pain. Her vision darkened as she found it harder to hold on any longer.

"Sharese!"

She jolted out of her trance at the yell of her name. Gasping for air, she looked around to find herself curled on the tiled floor, in front of the bathroom toilet. Her body trembling, she remained immobile. Her vision blurred with tears as her face drenched with sweat.

"Oh my god, are you okay?"

She turned her head, to find a knelt Lillian peering from under the stall.

"What's wrong?"

Reese glanced at her surroundings, wondering how she even ended up on the floor. Wiping her tears, she forced herself up and grabbed a wad of tissues.

"Nothing, I'm fine," she said with a strained tone.

Silence.

She waited to hear the clicking of Lillian's heels as she strutted out, but heard none. She was waiting for her. With reluctance, Reese stepped out of the stall to find Lillian standing before her. Her face softened with concern.

Reese bypassed her and approached the mirror. She cringed at the sight of her reddened, puffy eyes and smeared make up. She looked like such a mess. She dabbed her face with the tissues, careful not to smear anymore of her concealer. She suddenly hated herself for not carrying any like she usually would’ve.

"Wanna talk about it, hun?" Lillian rubbed her back.

"Lillian, I'm fine."

"Well, can I at least give you a hug? You look like you need it."

With a sigh, Reese turned to her and Lillian wrapped her arms around her. She rubbed her back, tightening her hold. Reese tried her best to hold it together, but she couldn't. She broke down into tears, burying her face into Lillian's shoulder.

"It's okay, hun. It's okay," she whispered, rocking her.

Lillian held her, soothing her as she released her tears. After a while, Reese pulled away, embarrassed. She had never cried in front of any of her staff. It was unprofessional, and most of all inappropriate. She hated herself for allowing this. She stepped away and turned to the mirror.

"You wanna forgo the whole event?" Lillian asked.

"No," she quickly said. She shook her head with vehemence, drying her eyes. "We're not forgoing anything."

"Are you sure? You look like you need a brea—"

"Lillian." She shut her eyes, annoyed. "Just...go out there and make sure everything is situated. Please. I'll be out there in just a moment."

Lillian stood there, as though itching to say something. But much to her relief, she turned away and left. Grateful for the privacy, Reese let out a deep sigh, forcing herself to get it together. She fluffed her spiked hair, before smoothing the sides around her nape, then brushed the loose lint off of her satin burgundy blouse and black skirt.

Today, was the Free the Heart's annual, Women Survivor's workshop. An event in which the members of the organization gathered at the shelter to celebrate women from all walks of life, whom had survive abuse, by sharing out food, clothing, as well as children's toys and books. There were no cameras or recording of the event due to respect of the women's privacy. But the event still managed to garner publicity due to her newfound 'status'.  She didn't mind it, as long as the publicity was for a good cause.

Reese let out a breath, staring at her reflection. She just hoped she could pull this off. Despite whatever turmoil she was going through, she couldn't let that stop her from doing her job. She had a responsibility to be an example for these women. No matter what.