to that mindset with all this,” I said, gesturing toward the laptop and other equipment on the table. “It’s so much easier to obsess over trying to track down Killjoy and his crew, to plan how I’ll kill him, or, when I’m trying to be decent, how I’ll turn him over like the criminal piece of shit he is. It’s sick, probably, but the thought of him begging me for mercy gets me through some of the worst of it.”
Jenson didn’t answer for a while. “I think wanting to hurt him badly is normal. And I think that whatever helps you hold on and get through this, whatever helps you hold it together, isn’t a bad thing. But you should know that it’s not just you. I’m here to listen to you talk or to be here with you when you cry or to take off with you if you ever need to get away and just scream until you let some of this rage out. And if not me, then you have to know that Caine’s here for you.”
“He’s a good partner,” I said, nodding.
“Yeah.” Jenson seemed like she was about to say more, but she didn’t. “You can come out with us, if you want.”
I nearly laughed. I was sure David would just love that. He’d been crushing on Jenson since I’d known him, and probably longer than that.
“Nah, I’m good.” We watched the feed some more, and then Jenson finally rolled her eyes and stood up.
“What is this guy, the freaking Energizer bunny?” she asked. “I think I’m going to turn in. We can watch whatever the drone records in the morning. Unless you want to watch some more?”
“No, thank you,” I said, and she laughed, picked up the laptop, and closed it.
“You did a good job tonight. I was impressed by how calm and orderly it all was. No wonder you drove the police crazy for so long.”
I smiled. “It felt good. Not that I plan on robbing houses for a living again, but I felt in control. I haven’t felt that way in what feels like forever.”
Jenson nodded. “Get some sleep.”
“I will,” I said, knowing I had no intention of doing that.
After Jenson left, I put on my sweats and a grungy old t-shirt and made my way down to the training room. I lifted a little bit. I was still convinced that if I could keep myself strong, eventually I’d get some of my physical strength and reflexes back. I knew it was a long shot, but it was better than sitting around hoping. And, working out tired me out, and I needed it. You’d think after spending my days patrolling, fighting with super-powered jerks, volunteering for extra shifts, trying to find Killjoy in my spare moments, and working with Jenson and the others on our little secret information gathering missions that I would sleep like a baby every night. It never seemed to work out that way, though. Usually, I stay up late watching whatever crap is on TV and trying not to think too much. And then eventually, I go to bed once my eyes start getting tired and I feel like maybe I’ll sleep. And I usually toss and turn in bed for a long time, and that’s when all of the thoughts about things I could have done differently start up, along with anger at myself for not being smarter, for not being better, for getting Mama into that situation in the first place. And eventually, I’d fall asleep amid the self-loathing, and the nightmares would start. Lather, rinse, repeat until my alarm went off in the morning.
So, I stayed up as late as I could, and I’d been finding that coming to the training room was a good way to at least try to work through some of my anger in a productive way. Once I finished with the weights, I moved on to the punching bag. With no one else around, I didn’t bother worrying about how slow I was, how clumsy my movements were. I just focused on trying to make sure that my fist connected with the bag eventually. I focused on accuracy, on making contact, and I hoped that if I did that enough, I’d get back some of what I’d lost.
I punched until my arms were aching and sweat rolled down my face and I was
Jenson didn’t answer for a while. “I think wanting to hurt him badly is normal. And I think that whatever helps you hold on and get through this, whatever helps you hold it together, isn’t a bad thing. But you should know that it’s not just you. I’m here to listen to you talk or to be here with you when you cry or to take off with you if you ever need to get away and just scream until you let some of this rage out. And if not me, then you have to know that Caine’s here for you.”
“He’s a good partner,” I said, nodding.
“Yeah.” Jenson seemed like she was about to say more, but she didn’t. “You can come out with us, if you want.”
I nearly laughed. I was sure David would just love that. He’d been crushing on Jenson since I’d known him, and probably longer than that.
“Nah, I’m good.” We watched the feed some more, and then Jenson finally rolled her eyes and stood up.
“What is this guy, the freaking Energizer bunny?” she asked. “I think I’m going to turn in. We can watch whatever the drone records in the morning. Unless you want to watch some more?”
“No, thank you,” I said, and she laughed, picked up the laptop, and closed it.
“You did a good job tonight. I was impressed by how calm and orderly it all was. No wonder you drove the police crazy for so long.”
I smiled. “It felt good. Not that I plan on robbing houses for a living again, but I felt in control. I haven’t felt that way in what feels like forever.”
Jenson nodded. “Get some sleep.”
“I will,” I said, knowing I had no intention of doing that.
After Jenson left, I put on my sweats and a grungy old t-shirt and made my way down to the training room. I lifted a little bit. I was still convinced that if I could keep myself strong, eventually I’d get some of my physical strength and reflexes back. I knew it was a long shot, but it was better than sitting around hoping. And, working out tired me out, and I needed it. You’d think after spending my days patrolling, fighting with super-powered jerks, volunteering for extra shifts, trying to find Killjoy in my spare moments, and working with Jenson and the others on our little secret information gathering missions that I would sleep like a baby every night. It never seemed to work out that way, though. Usually, I stay up late watching whatever crap is on TV and trying not to think too much. And then eventually, I go to bed once my eyes start getting tired and I feel like maybe I’ll sleep. And I usually toss and turn in bed for a long time, and that’s when all of the thoughts about things I could have done differently start up, along with anger at myself for not being smarter, for not being better, for getting Mama into that situation in the first place. And eventually, I’d fall asleep amid the self-loathing, and the nightmares would start. Lather, rinse, repeat until my alarm went off in the morning.
So, I stayed up as late as I could, and I’d been finding that coming to the training room was a good way to at least try to work through some of my anger in a productive way. Once I finished with the weights, I moved on to the punching bag. With no one else around, I didn’t bother worrying about how slow I was, how clumsy my movements were. I just focused on trying to make sure that my fist connected with the bag eventually. I focused on accuracy, on making contact, and I hoped that if I did that enough, I’d get back some of what I’d lost.
I punched until my arms were aching and sweat rolled down my face and I was
Similar Books
