Fighting Shadows!

A Morning of Confusion

Emily's POV

I woke up in Blake's enormous bed, the soft sheets clinging to my naked body. I stretched my limbs and yawned, feeling content and sated from the events of the previous night. But as I looked around, I realized Blake was nowhere to be seen.

I pulled the blanket tighter around me and made my way downstairs. The house was quiet, and the only sound was the faint echo of my footsteps on the marble floor. I entered the spacious living room, hoping to find Blake there, but instead, I found him in his private gym.

Blake was busy working out, his sculpted muscles glistening with sweat. I couldn't help but stare at him, admiration and desire mixing within me. But as our eyes met, I saw a flicker of something in his gaze – uncertainty, perhaps even regret.

"Are you okay?" I asked, my voice filled with concern. But he didn't answer, his attention focused on his intense workout.

"Blake?" I pressed, hoping for a response.

He finally paused, turning to face me with a slightly bewildered expression. "Yes, I made a pot of coffee. I'm sure you need to get to work," he answered, his voice detached and distant.

His dismissive response sparked a fire within me. I couldn't ignore the feeling that something was off, that he was treating me differently now. The words spilt out of my mouth before I could stop myself.

"Did I do something wrong? Or are you treating everyone like this the morning after you have sex with women?" I challenged him, my voice tinged with hurt and frustration.

He seemed taken aback, his eyes widening in surprise as he stopped hitting the punching bag. "What?" he asked, his voice laced with confusion.

"You heard me," I continued, my voice trembling. "I thought we had a breakthrough last night, that there was something more between us. But now, you're acting like it never happened."

I stood there, feeling the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air. The room suddenly felt suffocating, as if the walls were closing in on me. Every word he uttered was like a dagger, piercing through my heart and leaving behind a trail of pain. I had never seen him like this before, his anger radiating off him like an intense heat.

With a deep breath, I tried to compose myself, refusing to let his harsh words break me. "So, you think you can break through me last night, and just expect me to be a normal fucking human being after one night of emotional sex?" he spat, his eyes filled with a mix of anger and hurt.

His accusatory tone caught me off guard, and for a moment, I was at a loss for words. The truth was, I didn't know what I had expected. We had shared something raw and vulnerable, opening up parts of ourselves that we had kept hidden for far too long. But now, in the cold light of day, it seemed that the weight of our unspoken emotions had become too much for him to bear.

"Okay, I've heard enough," I finally managed to say, my voice trembling slightly. "I will show myself out." Without giving him a chance to respond, I turned on my heels and made my way towards the bedroom to change into my clothes. As I slipped into my jeans and pulled on a T-shirt,

  "Where are you going?" he asked.
 
  "To my apartment, then work. Didn't you just tell me I need to get to work?" I'm having so much anger inside me now that it's impossible to hide what I'm feeling right now.
 
  "You showed me how to have emotions last night, so let me show you how to have no emotions. Put on the gloves." he threw the gloves at me and turned around to put his back on.

I couldn't stand the condescending tone in his voice as he uttered those words. "Do you want to stay weak for the rest of your life or learn how to fight?" My anger boiled up within me, and I instinctively picked up my fist without the protective glove, ready to strike him. But before I could make my move, he swiftly caught my hand, preventing me from delivering the blow.

"Your weak, Emily," he repeated, his words driving a surge of frustration through my veins. I despised being labelled as weak, and the fact that he was the one saying it only intensified my anger.

"What are you doing?" I demanded, my voice laced with irritation.

"Training you," he replied calmly, his voice carrying a hint of authority.

I couldn't understand his methods. He had instructed me not to show emotions during fights, yet here he was purposely provoking me, deliberately trying to make me angry. It made no sense to me, and I desperately sought an explanation.

"I thought you said I shouldn't show emotions when I'm fighting, but you're just making me angry. Why?" I questioned, hoping to get some clarity. But instead of responding, he turned around and walked away, leaving me bewildered and frustrated.

The rain beat relentlessly against the windowpane as I stood there, my heart heavy with hurt and confusion. Tears welled up in my eyes, threatening to spill over. How could he do this to me? I thought to myself, struggling to find the strength to hold back the flood of emotions that threatened to consume me.

His words echoed in my mind, replaying over and over again like a broken record. "Hit me, Emily, or get the fuck out of here." His anger had pierced through my soul, leaving me feeling small and insignificant. I had never been spoken to like that before, especially not by someone I had shared such an intimate moment with.

I tossed the gloves at him, a physical manifestation of my frustration and disbelief, and stormed out of his apartment. The raindrops mingled with my tears as I made my way down the street, aching with the weight of what had just transpired.

As the rain soaked through my clothes, I couldn't help but feel as though it mirrored the storm brewing within me. I had willingly given myself to him, believing that there was something more between us. But his callous treatment this morning shattered that illusion, leaving me feeling used and discarded.

Memories of past traumas, of being assaulted and abused, resurfaced, adding another layer of pain to the already heavy burden I carried. Yet, in all my past experiences, no one had ever made me feel like a whore before, as he had done. The realization hit me like a punch to the gut, and I found myself clutching my face in my hands, trying to hold back the shame that threatened to consume me.

How could I have been so stupid? It's like I'm a magnet for people to abuse and hurt me. The rain pounded on me as if it were a physical manifestation of my self-loathing. The wetness soaked through my clothes, clinging to my skin like a constant reminder of my own foolishness.

Finally, I reached my apartment, my sanctuary from the outside world. I stumbled through the door, my heart heavy with regret. All I did was judge myself while walking to my apartment, and now I'm soaking wet. It's as if the rain was trying to wash away the pain that I couldn't seem to escape.

I collapsed onto the couch, tears streaming down my face. How did I let myself fall for him? Blake, with his charming smile and magnetic personality, had swept me off my feet. But now, all I could feel was the sting of betrayal and the weight of my own naivety.

I guess I can say goodbye to ever training with him again, not that I want to. I should've gone with my gut. I should've listened to that little voice inside me that warned me about him. But instead, I let myself get caught up in the allure of his promises.

"No strings attached," he had said. I thought I could handle it. I thought I could keep my emotions in check. But now, here I am, nursing a bruised eye and a bruised heart.