Veiled Spirits

CHAPTER 7

IZZY

Islam the door behind me and lean my forehead against the smooth surface. Tears run down my cheeks and silent sobs rack my frame. I haven’t mastered not crying, but I have perfected crying silently.

Nothing even happened to me. Lots of people have gone through so much worse.

What gives me the right to be so messed up about a little over the clothes touching?

Nothing.

I’m just a crybaby.

“You need me to get Bishop, kid?” Aggie asks as she floats through the wall next to the door. I can give her enough juice for her to interact slightly with Bishop. He knows the signs of Aggie trying to get his attention.

I shake my head. “No. He doesn’t know.”

Aggie sucks in a surprised ghostly breath. “You didn’t tell him?”

“No,” I rasp past the emotion choking me. “What the fuck am I supposed to tell him? He’ll absolutely lose his shit if he finds out.” Bishop is crazy protective over me. If he finds out some of the boys at school have tried to force me into things, he won’t be able to stop himself from killing them. That’s a one-way ticket to mage jail. I won’t allow that to happen to him.

It’s been six months or so since anyone’s tried it. I should be over it by now. But I’m clearly not. Even worse, I just made an absolute ass of myself in front of all four of them.

“I don’t know, kid. But it’s not healthy to keep things like that inside,” Aggie says sagely.

Scoffing, I ask, “What about my lifestyle is heathy, Aggie? We both know I’m not going to make it to thirty, maybe not even twenty-five. If they don’t kill me, my nightly activities will. So, what does it really matter?”

“Don’t talk like that, kid,” Aggie gently admonishes. She’s in almost as much denial as Bishop is. They both think there’s a future for me. They’re both wrong.

Not saying anything further, I ride out the emotions until I finally stop trembling. The tears dry up, and the sadness ebbs away. In its place is white-hot anger. It burns my insides and makes me feel something other than shame and self-loathing.

Some of the anger is at those guys who touched me without consent. Most of it, though, is at myself.

I should be stronger.

I shouldn’t have let myself get into those situations.

Needing an outlet for my anger, I pull my fist back and aim it at the white wood door. “Kid!” Aggie yells before I can make contact with it.

“What?” I snarl, too lost to my rage and pain to be polite.

“They have punching bags here. Don’t break your hand punching a door!” Aggie’s words manage to break through the anger suffocating me.

Giving her a sharp nod, I pull open the bathroom door. I don’t look at any of my mates as I head over to the punching bags. When I reach the bag, I rip off my gloves. I attack the bag bare knuckled, needing the pain to ground me and keep me from drowning.

After a few punches, Bishop walks up behind me. I brace myself for him to try to stop me or make me wear the gloves. “Here,” is all he says as he thrusts my headphones and phone at me. A lump forms in my throat at his thoughtfulness. Bishop always knows exactly what I need.

Would he still want me, knowing how weak I am?

I can’t think about that. I’ve cried enough for an entire lifetime tonight. Thinking about that just makes the tears threaten to spill again. So, I shove it out of my mind as I snatch the earbuds and phone from Bishop.

None too gently putting my earbuds in, I put on “Making the Bed.” I don’t see if Bishop walks away, because I’m too focused on punching. With my music going, I lose myself to the rhythmic thumping of my fists against the bag.

After a particularly hard punch, I feel my left pinky and ring finger knuckles crunch as they hit the bag. Bright, intense pain flares in my hand. It feels like a lightning bolt hit those two knuckles and set them on fire. “Fuck!” I shout, partly from the pain and partly from frustration at myself.

It was stupid not to use the gloves. Now I can’t keep punching, because I’m pretty sure they’re broken.

Yanking my earbuds out, I carelessly toss them on the ground near their case. I scrub my other hand over my face as all four men come rushing over.