Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 59659 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 298(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59659 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 298(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
“Fine,” she said, sticking her chin up in the air and dramatically sweeping toward the door. “I’ll have James call you and tell you what an idiot you’ve been.”
As she walked out, heading to her car, I noticed one of my neighbors watching from their garden. She must have been there the whole time. She watched as Sarah left and then turned toward me with an expression of empathetic sadness. I shut the door and leaned against it for a moment. Adrenaline was running through me so hard that I wanted to break things. I wanted to punch a punching bag until my hands were raw. I wanted to…
Work out.
Yanking the polo off and tossing it onto my bed, I pulled open my drawers and found a T-shirt. I slid it on and grabbed my phone, not bothering to change out of my jeans. I wasn’t planning on doing cardio today. Today was going to be all about lifting until my arms were jelly.
I tried calling Melanie but got voicemail. I tried a second time and got the same response. So, I pulled up her contact info and shot her a text, asking simply that she would call me ASAP. Then I opened the door to the garage and stepped down into my sanctuary.
I flipped the television on, and immediately went to a sports station playing highlights. I was fine with that. I just wanted the background noise anyway. Sometimes I wanted music, but that was when I needed motivation. When I was working out anger or frustration, I didn’t need anything other than background noise. Music would only drown out the images in my mind that I was trying to work through.
Putting on heavy weights on the bench press bar, I locked them in tight and sat down. Strictly speaking, I shouldn’t test myself like this unless I had someone to spot me. But right then, I was willing to be a little dangerous if it meant I got to beat this feeling out of me. I laid back and settled myself under the bar.
The first lift was easy, but it almost always was. My body was fine-tuned to lift heavy things after years of doing exactly what I was doing now. Working frustration out by punishing my body. The weights went up and then slowly came down, then back up again. It was always the end of the first set when I felt effort for the first time.
The second set started easily, then by the fourth rep, my effort was back. And by the end of the set, I was pushing, sweat beading on my brow.
The third set was effort from the beginning. I let out a primal roar as I got through the end of the set, feeling the burn of my muscles as I set the weight back on the bench.
The punching bag was next. My arms already hurt, but I still had so much adrenaline, so much frustration. I had to work it out. I slipped on my gloves and took a stance beside the bag. I never envisioned a person when hitting the bag. That was dangerous. That led to dehumanizing people and fists flying at flesh. The bag was a tool. Just like the weights.
And I hit the living daylights out of that tool.
I pounded on it until sweat was dripping off of me, and I was slowing down, throwing haymakers instead of combinations. Grunting with effort with every swing. Eventually, I had almost nothing left, and I sat down heavily on the bench. Now I had my biggest test.
Lying down one more time, I lifted the weights and went through a single set. It was excruciating, but with every lift, I felt the anger leaving me. My arms and chest were burning and spent, but I got the entire set done and racked it again. As soon as it landed in the rack, I let my arms fall and relaxed onto the bench. I was breathing heavily and sweat matted my hair down. I clenched my eyes shut and only opened them when I heard a strange sound coming from the television.
There was a blank screen for a second and then white words appeared. It said something about a tornado, and I sat up fully, grabbing the remote nearby to turn the volume up. A robotic sounding voice was giving the warning, and my eyes widened as I read what the screen said.
A massive tornado. Heading straight for downtown Murdock.
Right for the store.
I stood bolt upright and immediately grabbed my phone and ran into the house toward the bedroom. Yanking the sweaty shirt off, I grabbed a fresh one and was fitting it over my head when I got into the living room. A siren went off, low and piercing, coming from the center of town. I remembered it going off once before when I was a kid. We had to hide in the storm shelter under the house.