Intoxicated love (tomholland)

Chapter 35

Hey loves,
So we only have a couple more chapters left (I think). I'm going to be sad not writing this but I've already started something new (another Tom Holland thing) but none has been published yet because I'm going to start publishing when I've finished this. The chapters are longer and I hope the writing is better!

Tom's POV
When Y/n rushed out the room quickly I wasn't sure if I believed her excuse. I mean, yes it was a believable thing to say, but she seemed too angry.

It was probably just mood swings.

Even though I'm still in the hospital bed I don't feel weak or in any pain at all- I've been hurt this seriously more than once.

When I was younger I was taught by my dad how to handle pain. At a young age I was trained to become a gang leader.

I followed my dad into an old barn. It smelt like manure and hay, scents you would instantly link to a setting like this.

My dad ushered me in front of him, and then shoved the large heavy door closed.

The barn was dark, the only light source was a small hanging lamp, which threw off an insufficient amount of light.

I felt my heart rate speed up. I looked over at my dad, but he gave off nothing, not even looking at me.

A crunching of boots over the hay comes closer to us. A big man emerges from the shadows, a dense beard crowding his dirty face. In his hand he held a knife. His features reminded me of a pirate I'd seen in films and read in stories.

"Hello son." His voice is deep and gruffly. "I'm here to teach you about pain."

A buzz of fear rolls though my whole body. I take a large gulp, my eyes never leaving the seemingly growl blade the man is swaying in his fist. It catches the light seeping through the cracks in the old wood in the corners of the barn.

The pirate man swings the blade expertly before offering it to me. He tells me something but I couldn't make out what he said through my hammering heartbeat.

His voice comes again and this time I concentrate on his words. "Take the knife son."

My fingers tremble as I slowly take the knife from his worn hand. I look up t my dad again, but he still doesn't look at me.

"Stab your palm." I look up at the man like he just grew three heads, and then back at the blade. He's not messing around.

I was hesitant, and this aggravates the scary man. "Oh, for god sake son." He seizes my wrist and and blade. His big hand holds my wrist and the steel top pokes down against my palms skin.

I give out a cry.

"Did that hurt?" The man asks.

"Yeah, it-"

He didn't let me finish before slapping me violently across the face. I reel backwards, my cheek on fire.

"Does your hand hurt now?" He asks me.

My ears ring as I answer. "No, my face hurts."

The man shows his disgusting teeth's through a slashed grin at his... victory? Then his face goes serious again. "Pain is relative. Subjective. A broken nail hurts until someone kicks you in the nuts." He allows me to digest his explanation before continuing. "I'm goin' to teach ya how to differentiate physiological pain and physical pain.

He grabs my other wrist and raises the knife. I feel myself flinch, but the lance does not descend. The mans eyes stay locked to my own.

"Anticipating pain leads to fear. Fear increase pain. Expecting relief from pain amplified the opioids in the brain, makes the hurting stop. How your mind reacts to pain determines how much you actually feel."

My dad's voice sounds form behind me. "Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional."

I feel my dad stand next to me, and a feeling of betrayal spreads through me, burning my insides.

But then I realise that he's just watching me. This is a test. Blood drips from my palm and the bearded man begins talking again.

"You need to control the pain. Control your insular cortex, get distance form the sensation by focusing on your breathing. Your going to learn to attend to the pain, put it in a box, chuck the box on a self and get on with your f**king day."

"How am I going to do that?" I question.

"Practice makes perfect."

I hold the air in my lungs until it burns. He hand the blade back to me. My dad winks at me, a tiny bite to confidence. Or maybe I was just imagining it. I wasn't sure.

Looking at my dad to the man to the blade he asks me, "what are you waiting for?"

And with years of practice I can now handle immense pain.

I sit on my own in a blissful silence, enjoying my own thoughts as company. I haven't done this for a very long time.

Haz comes in to the room, showing me my phone. "Y/n's calling you mate."

I nod and answer it, putting the phone on speaker. Haz stays in the room.

"Hello?" I say when no one says anything. That's when I hear her voice in the other end of the line.

"But Alan, if you are as powerful as you say, why not come out in the open? Why stay here, in this small bar?" She asks and my heart drops.

Y/n went to Alan to hurt him. F**k. She can probably take him but the chances of him having a gun with him are high.

I jump out of the bed, not regretting my actions even when I feel a small pain. I focus on my breathing as I rush to the car Janus drove himself here in.

"Haz drive us to the bar." I say and he steps on the pedal hard, causing the car to jolt forward.

We arrive at the car and it's empty. I grab my gun and enter.

Out of nowhere a gunshot runs through my ears and I get a sick feeling.

Authors note:
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