𝗕𝗨𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘

𝟯𝟭. 𝗧𝗿𝗮𝘂𝗺𝗮

I've never felt worse about anything in my entire life.

I hate myself for every lie that fell out of my mouth so easily. If I could do something to change what happened last night, god knows I'd do anything.

But I'd hate myself more if I ever received a phone call from Beau crying, because she's scared of a man threatening her- because she's been hurt. In a way what I did was the lesser of two evils, but it was still a scene written by the devil himself.

I was already going to tell her last night, but not like that. Something more casual like suggesting a break. So when she said those three little words with such powerful impact, it felt like my world came crashing down in every aspect.

All I wanted to do was scream them back but it wasn't possible. Because it's arguable that it if you really love someone, you'd do anything to protect them. I'd go through never ending torture for Beau, but when it comes to a man I don't even know the location of, its pretty hard to keep her safe from him.

Her words re play in my ears like a haunting echo. Each heart wrenching sentence fuels the anger I have at myself, and I let it out onto the punching bag.

I've been here practically all day and night. Boxing really is my escape, my pleasure and my outlet. I should say I'm here to train for my upcoming fight but that would be a lie, I'm here for the obscure sense of therapy it offers me.

"Get the fuck out of my house and don't ever come back." Like a clip on replay, the last ten words Beau spoke to me haven't left my mind once.

I deserved everything she said, every push and shove. I deserve to be feeling as heartbroken as I am right now, because I can only imagine she's feeling it ten times harder.

It's been less than twenty four hours since I last held her in my arms. Had her scented hair in my face, her smooth skin against mine, offering a warmth like no other.

Suddenly her face is all I can see. Chubby cheeks when they're lifted by a smile, chocolate brown eyes, straight teeth that she's always believed need to be whiter. The image paints itself on the punching bag in front of me, and I lose all motivation to attack it again. Instead I rip off my gloves and head to the changing room.

By the time I've taken a quick shower and re-changed, it's around twelve forty five. I couldn't sleep last night and I've got no doubt it'll be the same case again.

She didn't arrive at school today, but that's no surprise. When Kaylee and the girls began to worry as she didn't answer calls, I found myself subject to a shit tonnes worth of guilt. Picturing her still as distraught as she was last night felt like a fresh stab wound, and I deserve to bleed out.

I push the door to Sams open, ready to get what I need and leave but that's never in the equation here. His jolly voice mimics that of a pest tonight, nothing anyone could do or say will make feel better. She was the only exception, but I can't go running back now.