Page 56 of Letters to the Lost

Ripping myself from their embrace is hard, wanting nothing more than for them to comfort me.

But I need this anger, to feel something other than utter hopelessness, where I pray to feel numb. I’m self-aware enough to recognize this as another stage of grief, something Doctor Karskin and I discussed when I was in the program.

It's a sign that I’m moving forward, that I’m finally processing the loss of Chloe.

It’s also a sign that I’m grieving another loss, the loss of my childhood.

What I could have had.

“No,” I bark, wincing at how much anger seeps into my tone, attempting to soften the blow, needing them to understand. “I need to feel this…” I say, rubbing my chest over my heart, “I need to feel like this, to feel the anger that has built up in my soul. I lost everything because of them, I lost pieces of myself while I did everything I could to protect Chlo, and I don’t regret any of it. But I’m allowed to feel angry about everything that was ripped from me by someone else’s selfishness.”

I pace, scratching absently at my wrist as my emotions overwhelm me.

Parzival follows me in my pacing as he desperately tries to comfort me, Zander, and Sebastian both watching me warily with wide eyes.

“I’m so overwhelmed with everything; my head is a mess. Their words are constantly running through my mind, I can hear them all so clearly. That I’m worthless, that everything was always my fault! I was a fucking child; I didn’t get to be a child and it makes my blood boil. I-I just want to feel safe, and I still can’t get that…” I trail off, hot tears staining my face as I finally halt my pacing and face my men, embarrassment staining my cheeks from my outburst.

Zander steps towards me, his hand outstretched for me to take, his face thunderous as he moves forward.

“Come,” he demands, grasping my hand tightly in his as he drags me from the room and towards the garage.

He says nothing else as he blocks Parzival from getting into the SUV, leading him back to Sebastian by his collar as I climb into the car, him following shortly after he returns, a gym bag in his hand.

We pull up outside a warehouse, Zander’s thunderous face preventing me from asking any questions. I know this man won’t hurt me, so I follow him as he leaves the SUV silently and marches towards a door off to the side of the building.

A gasp slips from my mouth as I step through, a boxing ring stands in the center of the room, and modern workout equipment surrounds it. A row of punching bags to the left, my gaze pausing on a particularly beaten one that looks as if it’s going to split apart at the seams.

“Is this yours?” I softly ask him as he moves around the large room gathering things before dropping them on the mat of the ring.

A singular nod is the only response I get, as I nervously twist my fingers together. The soft grind of the bone grounding me and preventing me from another attack. I don’t know why he’s mad, but my chest feels tight because I can’t fix it. The fawn response is strong as I fight my instincts to placate him in any way, so he doesn’t direct his anger at me. I know he won’t do so; I know he would rather hurt himself before he ever hurt me, but my brain still needs time to get used to that.

“Come,” Zander beckons me, as he stands in the middle of the ring, his shirt discarded to the side showing off his impressive muscles and toned stomach.

Doing as I’m told, I climb into the ring and stop in front of him, urging my eyes to stay on his face.

“I get being angry. I understand that monster more than most. The need to inflict pain on the people who have wronged you,” his fingers trail across my cheekbone, skating down my throat as his hand wraps around my neck. He could so easily snap it and end my life in a single movement, but I trust him. As I gaze up into his eyes, rage simmers in his light blue eyes, like lightning that tears across the sky on a stormy night, but I know it’s not directed at me. “I get angry, Princess, because that monster inside of me that craves violence in a fight, is raging inside of me because of you. For everything you have suffered at the hands of people who were supposed to love you. I’m going to show you how to channel that, I’m going to teach you how to protect yourself, then I’m going to show you how much I love you.”

Suddenly he’s spinning me around, his front plastered against my back, his thick arms banding around my arms locking me against him. The dragon tattoo that I’m mesmerized by, mocks me as it stares up at me from his arm, the dragon looking as if it’s smirking as his muscles flex.

“Fight,” he growls in my ear.

“I can’t,” I cry, the feeling of being trapped making my lungs seize, and my breathing ragged.

“Princess!” Zander snaps, his voice breaking through the fog threatening to take over, “You need to fight!”

So I do, I allow my body to fight instead of freeze for the first time in years.

I kick, claw, and bite until I feel myself falling to the mat, my breathing labored.

“Zander,” I cry out seeing bloody scratch marks down his arms, immense guilt filling me because I’ve hurt him. Something I never wanted to do.

“It’s fine Princess, you fought like a wildcat. I’m so proud of you. Now let me teach you some actual self-defense moves, so you can kick ass,” he teases with a proud smile on his face, no sign of the anger from before.

We spend the next two hours grappling on the mats, Zander showing me new moves and showing me how to get out of certain holds. I only panicked a few times, using the breathing techniques my therapist taught me to get through it.

“How do you get out of this one Princess?” he taunts as he looks down at me pinned beneath him, his bare chest glistening with sweat, his eyes filled with heat from having me under him.

Deciding to try to turn this around on him, I buck my hips up into him, feeling the hard outline of his impressive cock straining against his shorts.

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