Fifty Four and a Half. What a Deeply Imbedded Fear It Is

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The song in the mediabox is Please Don't Say You Love Me by Gabrielle Aplin

A/N: Before you go ahead and start the chapter (that was highly requested in the comments in the previous chapter) check out this amazing poem by @crazy10-1!

Broken
Broken
BROKEN
It's chanted
It's screamed
Into there heads
Not realising they were being manipulated day after day
It wasn't love at first sight
It wasn't what people thought was right
They were too different
He was misunderstood
She ran at the sight of food
He was abused
While she was used
Two broken hearts
Already destined to be torn apart
By fate or prejudice or hate
You know what they say
Two broken hearts make a whole lot of mess
With peer pressure and stress
Two broken hearts just might be able to beat as one, once again

I repeat: AMAZING!! Thank you so much, babe!!! I absolutely adore this one! If anyone else wants to send me a poem or even cover art, all are welcomed!

Now, onto the story :)

Aidan's POV

My fist slammed against the rock hard punching bag that was, unfortunately for it, on the receiving end of my pending frustration. I rubbed my naked, blood stained knuckles, watching as the bag swung back and forth until it allowed down back to it's still state.

Going at the damn thing without any type of protection probably wasn't the smartest idea in the book, but the task was accomplishing what I had originally set out for it to do. The painful blows assisted as a distraction from Demi.

Demi. Demi. Demi.

A heavy sigh parted my lips as I stepped away from the punching bag. I walked to the spot where my water bottle was and sat down, pressing my back against the wall and took a swing. The gym, at that point, was pretty much empty seeing as it was ten o'clock at night. Half an hour to closing.

After leaving her house shortly after the verbal slap in the face, I rushed to pick Briella up from her play date, and after finally getting her to go to sleep I headed straight to the gym.

Normally I would have a major problem leaving her alone with just my dad in the house unless there was an actual emergency that left me with no choice, but as my dad was out cold from all the drinking I suspected he had been doing while he was out, and Briella being so drained after hours of rigorous play, I assumed they both wouldn't be up until the Sun was starting to rise.

Plus, I knew that if I didn't take the time to let out some of the pent up emotions that was swirling around inside of me I would blow up.

For the last two and half hours not only had I been mercilessly pounding on the suspended bag, I was mulling over the entire conversation with Demi, and when I said mulling over the entire conversation I meant mulling over the entire conversation.

The one conclusion I had found myself repeatedly drawing throughout the course of it all was that Demi was, in no uncertain terms, a good liar.

How she managed to pull the wool over everybody's eyes with what was going on with her relapse was beyond my knowledge. Then again, I did feel at times that I saw her a hell of a lot more clearly than the world did.

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