Page 34 of A Kiss From Death
Hollow, that’s what I am.
A shiver climbs up my spine, and I notice the water has gone cold. That happens a lot these days, getting lost in my own head and losing track of time. Tipping my head back, I fully submerge it in the frigid water, sending a shock to my nervous system, a much needed shock to my brain.
I spend more time than I would like washing and detangling my hair until I can easily comb my fingers through my long, black locks. I double wash my body, making sure every speck of odor, blood, and dirt is banished from my skin.
I opt for simple black pants, peppered with pockets down each side, that I tuck into black combat boots. I pair it with a white cotton shirt tucked into the waistband of my pants. I fasten my dagger necklace around my neck and weave my hair back into a simple braid, pulling my two front curls out so they frame my face.
A knock sounds on my door, and I pray it’s not Aeron back for round two. Walking to my door, I cautiously open it. A genuine, easy smile spreads across my face when Winston comes into view—that is, until I see he’s holding a fucking orange…again. This time, though, the culprit has decided to peel the delicate skin, leaving it bare for me.
How kind…not.
Imagining a big, broody Hade delicately peeling an orange this morning brings a giggle vibrating up my throat. I picture him sitting there, attempting to stab his short, stubby nails into the peel, how his giant calloused hands probably engulfed the orange, making it even more difficult for him. But what drifts to the forefront of my mind the most is the idea that Hade was thinking aboutme.
“It was kind of the little rascal to peel it for you this morning at least.” Winston strides into my room, his signature rosy round cheeks perched halfway up his face in a giant smile. “Got yourself a secret admirer, do ya?”
I roll my eyes and let out a loud sigh, waving my hand in the air. “Something like that.”
He extends his hand out, attempting to give me the expertly peeled orange. I shove it back towards his chest, which only makes him smile wider as he gently rips off a wedge, popping it into his mouth. He chomps down hard, which makes some of the juice squirt out of his mouth to land right on my cheek. He winces a little and swipes his finger across my skin, collecting the runaway juice before he sucks it right off his finger. He sheepishly smiles at me. “Can’t let any go to waste. This stuff is like gold to me.”
I’m stunned at first but then relax my shoulders and let myself have a normal interaction with another human for once. I shake my head at him. “Never a dull moment with you, Win.”
His eyes sparkle with pure happiness, not giving room for any other emotion to crest. “My daughter used to call me Win if I wasn’t listening to her or giving her enough attention.” He beams at me. “I haven’t been called that name in too many years, and it’s a damn shame.” He freezes for a minute, looking lost in a memory, a happy one.
“How do you do it?” I question in a soft tone.
He looks at me in confusion. “Do what, little lady?”
I nervously chew on my bottom lip, grinding my sweaty palms together, which always seems to happen when I talk about this. “Seem so happy all the time. Go on with your life like you’re okay…like nothing has changed.”
The room is silent.
“I don’t think I will ever be okay,” I whisper.
He nods thoughtfully a few times and then turns serious for once, almost inunderstanding.
“I won’t lie to you, it never goes away, the pain. It will dull, though, enough that instead of it being a sharp pain constantly digging its claws into you, those pangs of grief turn into good pangs. They show up as happy memories and in people who remind you of them.”
He taps my chest right above my heart. I realize then I bring him happy pangs. He said I reminded him of his daughter when we first met, and now, I know what that moment truly meant to him. It meanseverything.
“You need to let go and release the pain into the world, let it bear the weight of it for you. That’s when you can start to heal. The wound will only patch itself, though; it will never fully heal. That patch will be what saves you, letting you start living your life again. It will allow you to seek out thehappy pangs.”
I smile at him in understanding, hoping one day, I will have the strength to let go of it all. The pain. The heartache. The black void growing inside me. Knowing another person is capable of it pushes me to attempt the same.
“Find those happy pangs, little lady.” Winston gently squeezes my shoulder, and I give him a soft smile in return.
“I’ll try my best,Win.”
Beads of sweat crawl down my forehead and the back of my neck as I pepper the sandbag with a combination of punches and jabs. There’s something therapeutic about beating up an inanimate object for two hours straight, purging every emotion from my head out through my fists. My mind has shut off, my body taking over in a therapeutic sense.
I’m alone again in the corner of the Bubble, keeping my focus on myself for the Crucible. No boys. No distractions. Just me and my fists. We are free to train as we please during this week, and I plan to practice a new technique each day so I feel well rounded.
Yesterday, I focused on target practice, and today, I decided to brush up on my hand-to-hand combat. Even though I beat Aeron yesterday, it’s not lost on me that I did have to cheat my way through it. Competing against men who are much bigger and stronger than me is going to be a challenge, but if I work on smart moves and quick jabs, I should have a fighting chance.
My knuckles are red and raw, my core aches, and my arms feel like noodles, limp and tired by my sides. I am thoroughly spent.
Looking around the arena, I take in each of my competitors, dotted around the Bubble, working on different things. I catch Jade and Tank sparing on the opposite side, which is comical, seeing as Tank towers over Jade’s small frame. She seems to be holding her own, though, as I catch her slide between Tank’s legs and jab her elbow into the back of his knee, making him fall to his knees.
I catch Sierra’s arrow flying through the air, hitting a perfect bullseye. Looking back at her, I notice her eyes have been closed the whole time. She opens her eyes, flings her long red locks off her shoulder, and nocks another arrow in her bow lighting fast. It shoots off just as fast, barreling through the air. I hear wood splitting as her second arrows rips through the end of the one in the bullseye, perfectly splitting it in half.
