Into the Night

Chapter 18 - Four POV

Sunday, November 30th

My fists hurt, even though they were wrapped and experienced. It still stung after a while. Every punch and kick I threw felt harsh and calculated. It felt good to hit something, and it scared me.

She sent me another note this morning. The same phone number she had written on the note attached to the photo album. It was signed Mom, and had something else written underneath. We need to talk.

Bullshit we do. Why now of all times? If she was alive and in the city, why the Hell didn't she come to visit me before? Why didn't she make herself known to me? What gives her the right to come forward now and claim me as a son when she wanted nothing to do with me before?

Then again, I might not know the whole story. There could be some third party factor that was involved.

Marcus. Maybe.

"You hit that thing any harder and you're going to punch a hole in it." Zeke's voice joked from behind me.

I hit the bag harder.

"I take it something happened?"

My eyes find his. They're concerned, and open to an explanation. "I got a photo album from a stranger a few days ago, along with a note."

He waggles his eyebrows suggestively. "Like a secret admirer?"

I shake my head and hit the bag again. "Not exactly."

"Wait," Zeke seems to take a moment to wrap his head around what I've just said. "A photo album? Like of pictures?"

"That's what photo albums are Zeke." I hit the bag again.

"Pictures of what?"

I look back at Zeke who is now leaning comfortably against the wall.

My tone is cool and brisk. "Me."

I punch the bag again.

Zeke watches me continue to pound the bag, not asking for further details. I'm silently grateful, though I know he'll ask again, likely before we leave this building.

The gym was mostly empty seeing as it's almost eight at night, and it technically closed an hour ago. But Amar's cousin owns it, so they give me a little extra freedom. It still smelled of sweat, and blood. A smell that used to repulse me, one that reminded me of my fantastic childhood. Now I find it comforting, because I know how to fight back. It reminds me that I'm the one in control now.

Though I doubt, if given the chance, I would hit Marcus.

My teeth grit hard through the next punch. I'm too much of a coward.

"So . . ."

"Do you need something Zeke?" I ask slightly annoyed.

He shrugs his shoulders and frowns. "No, I guess not. I'm just bored."

"Don't you and Uriah usually go out drinking Sunday nights?" I ask looking over at him as he leans against the wall.

"Yeah, but he had a date tonight."

This stops me in my tracks. Date? Uriah? "Is it the girl from the bakery?"

"Marlene?" Zeke glances over at me. "No. He would have bragged about it. I don't know who it is. But I do know it's a double date. Going out with his friend, Will or something."

My voice lowers. "Is Will in the same line of work as Uriah?"

Zeke stiffens. I don't know if he's completely decided if he's okay with what Uriah does as a job. One the one hand, Zeke is jealous because Uriah gets to meet all these girls. But on the other hand, people in Uriah's line of work don't tend to have the best security, and have a tendency to go missing. No one except for close family or friends who know about what those, dancers, do. Who would notice if he went missing?