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I shouldn’t. I should be with her. But I deserve to be alone.
In between sobs and heaving breaths, when Cornell returned from Fort Worth, he couldn’t bring himself to tell his father what happened. I don’t even know what happened. He tried. Tried. What the fuck does that mean? Hearing Ali’s voice say those words only brought a tornado of worst-case scenarios spinning through his mind.
“He pulled me out of the car.” Cornell couldn’t clench his fists tight enough with the gloves on to stop the shaking. He touched Ali. My Ali. Put his filthy hands on her. Scared her. Hurt her. Cornell’s teeth gnashed violently together in his mouth, fighting against the new taste he had never dreamed of savoring before. It was the taste of straight failure, that Cornell hadn’t protected the most important person in his life.
“I can work from here,” Peter said, moving to stand beside him. “Just be around in case—”
“No. I’m fine. Your car should be here any minute.”
It was after five in the morning. Cornell had been awake for two hours, unable to sleep. Lying in bed, he looked longingly at the empty space beside him and wondered what she was doing at that exact moment. He hoped she wasn’t just sleeping, but sleeping deeply, peacefully, her body not tense, her face relaxed, her soft, full mouth slightly parted. Cornell squeezed his eyes shut—he would give anything to see Ali like that instead of all the ways he was seeing her.
Fighting.
Overpowered.
Terrified.
Shaking his head, Cornell turned from his father and brought his attention back to the bag, prepared to try to blow through it again before Peter placed a hand on his shoulder that he promptly shrugged off.
“Cornell—”
“Go, Dad,” he huffed, raising his gloved fists.
Peter’s gaze burned into him, heavy with concern, palpable with worry. Cornell didn’t want it. Fucking leave, he wanted to scream. That’s what you’re good at.
Peter shook his head. “I can’t leave you like this.”
“I don’t want you here,” Cornell growled. “Not now.”
He pressed his lips together and pounded, keeping the thoughts to his muted conscious, knowing if he blasted his father unfairly, the person who would be most disappointed in him would be Ali.
Ali…
Cornell hit the bag hard with his right hand, followed quickly by his left, fiercely determined to strike each image out of his head.
Graham’s hold on Ali’s arm.
Graham pulling Ali out of the car.
Graham trying to pin Ali down.
Graham’s hands on her body as she fought, as she screamed.
“Cornell, help me!”was what she yelled in the hospital, and Cornell had to stop hitting the bag and lean against it, nearly falling over as his mouth twisted into a broken pout and his heart into a tight knot.
Did she call out for me then?Cornell’s throat tightened at the thought, and he banged his head against the punching bag. Get it out of my head—all of it.
But nothing left. Not when he turned back to the bag and poured every ounce of energy against it, not when he fell to the dirty garage floor. Every second, every strained gasp of air was littered with the agonizing sound of her pleas, with images that suffocated him so strongly Cornell would have bet all the money in the world he had seen them with his own eyes instead of conjuring them up with his shattering, splintering heart.
