𝐂𝐑𝐘𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 | mitch rapp

32. confessions

CONFESSIONS
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

Mitch's fist collided with the punching bag again and again. He saw Angeline's father. He saw Mr Williams and his daughter too. Sweat trickled from his hairline, the top of his shaggy hair tied back in the shortest, most pathetic ponytail he could manage to keep it out of his eyes. His muscles burned and his knuckles pleaded with him for a break, but Mitch only grew faster – until eventually, he snapped.

"Fuck!" He yelled, giving it one last final slam before he staggered backwards.

He sat down, his back against the wall, his head thrown back as he panted. Mitch tugged the small hair band out of his hair and tossed it somewhere across the gym room, yanking his water bottle up next. The water trickling down his throat felt like the biggest relief, and yet he was still so angry at himself for not being able to do more.

He wanted to punch harder, throw them faster. To be better at his job.

He wished he had been there for Angeline.

For the past three days, Mitch had been forced to watch Angeline wander around the house like a ghost. Her skin pale, her eyes void of the mischievous twinkle they usually carried. She couldn't stomach full meals, her hands trembled, the smallest things could trigger her into bursts of tears. That made her hate herself more – Mitch knew how much she hated crying.

God, he wanted to wipe her tears and kiss her forehead and promise her she would be okay one day. However, Mitch knew the truth. Things like this never went away with time, no matter what therapists and friends reassured you. It would stay with you in the scars you wore on your body, infest your mind and eat away at your happiest of memories. Some days would be easier than others, but it was something she would have to live and deal with.

He thanked everything that her friends had been okay. The news had been like the greatest relief to Angeline, but it only seemed to soothe things for so long.

He grabbed his towel and swiped his forehead with it – then rubbed it against his hair, ridding it of all of his disgusting sweat. Mitch wasn't sure how long he had been in the gym room for, but when he left, the window in the corridor had sunlight pouring through it.

He went to the bathroom and took a long shower. Mitch dressed in joggers and a black shirt, and he finally took a razor to his face, ridding his skin of the messy facial hair he had grown recently. He took so much off that his skin was suddenly smoother than before – he looked young again. Truthfully, he hated looking at himself like this. He looked nineteen again, like he did when his family had been murdered. He was just fed up with all of the hair, and he couldn't find the right clipper for a close shave.

Mitch moved into the kitchen, freezing when he saw a figure sat at the bar stool. Angeline had a pair of earphones in, his iPod resting beside her cereal bowl as she slowly ate. She hadn't noticed him yet, but he saw the red circles around her eyes – sore from all of the crying she had been doing. Her baggy shirt looked baggier than ever. Angeline looked defeated, and yet this was a huge step forwards – she was out of her room without being forced out.

Her eyes flickered up when she noticed him. She tore the earphones out of her ears and sent him a tiny apologetic smile.

"Sorry," she said, pushing his iPod forwards a little. "It was just lying out."

"You can use it," Mitch said. "I don't mind."

"No, it's fi –"

"What were you listening to?" Mitch cut her off, grabbing his own bowl out of the cupboard. He began to pour himself some cereal too.