Chapter Forty-Six

Atlas' fist slammed into the punching bag, sending it swinging back into the cement wall behind it. As the bag swung back, Atlas pounded fist after fist into the bag. Sweat dripped down his face, shoulder, and arms. With one last hard right hook, he leaned back and released the breath he had been holding through his frustrated punching.

The chain holding the bag creaked awkwardly in the basement as Atlas stood before the bag it was supporting. Atlas collapsed onto the nearby bench and buried his face in his wrapped hands. The fabric encasing and protecting his fingers was soaked and stained from the numerous times they served their purpose. The threading on the edges was bare, but Atlas couldn't bare throwing them away.

When the creaking of the chains was finished, Atlas straightened and grabbed a water bottle from his bag. He squeezed the plastic and a steady stream of water squirted out of the nozzle, splashing over his face.

Footsteps came from the stairs leading down into the basement as Atlas wiped the remnants of the water from his face with a worn towel. He looked at the base of the steps and saw Eli rounding the corner.

"I heard you all the way from your office." Eli nodded toward the bag, his arms crossed. "Doing okay?"

Atlas scoffed, running his fingers through the loose strands of hair.

"What do you think?" He glared at Eli.

Eli had his hands up in surrender and shook his head.

"It's not my fault, Atlas."

Atlas tossed the bottle toward the mat underneath the punching bag. Only the sound of the bottle rolling filled the room. Atlas made no move to apologize or defend himself.

"I know that..." Atlas finally said, getting up from the bench and moving toward the bag again. "I just don't know how to even say anything. I haven't even told her that I love her yet."

Eli nodded and pursed his lips together. Atlas began his set of punching again while Eli remained focused on the floor. Eli walked behind the bag and steadied it for Atlas. Atlas quirked a brow but didn't say anything. After a few more rounds of punching, Eli opened his mouth.

"You need to be honest. I would help you, but for one, you only know why you did what you did. You haven't given me or your sister a reason yet. And for two," Eli held up his fingers, and Atlas stopped his punching. "This is something that you need to do on your own. She loves you, we all know it, but this will be something that will impact her way more than you think it will. That man you murdered was her only family she was on good terms with. And for that, she will hate you."

Atlas rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Thanks so much for that. Really inspiring." Atlas glared daggers at the poor Delta.

"Don't be that way, you did this to yourself, and I don't know how to help you. I shouldn't even be down here. If Venus knew I would be kicked out of the house for a month. She despises you right now. More than she ever despised L-" Eli's eyes widened as Atlas' gaze snapped to his face. Atlas clenched his jaw and wiggled his fingers, ready to punch Eli's face at any moment. "I mean you know who." Eli flashed a cautious smile and backed away from the hanging bag.

Atlas relaxed in Eli's absence. Just him and the punching bag, the outlet of his frustration. Suddenly his phone alarm went off, reverberating off the walls, and creating an echo chamber. Atlas groaned as he scrambled to find the source of the alarm. He turned it off and flopped on the floor, resting against the cold wall. The heat left his body, leaving only a cold sweat for him to sit in.

"It's time..." He grumbled to himself. He slowly and methodically began to unwind the fabric around his knuckles and fingers. He ripped off the velcro holding the fabric around his hand and began to unwind. As he finished unwinding, he balled the ribbon and shoved it into a pouch of his bag. He slung the bag over his shoulder and trudged up the stairs toward his bedroom.

When he got to his bedroom, Atlas threw the bag into the closet and headed for the shower. The steam from the shower created a heavy mist in the bathroom, limiting Atlas' vision.

He stripped himself of his sweat-stained t-shirt and pants and slid into the hot shower. The water rushed through his hair and down his scarred back and legs, gurgling down the drain.

The soap washed from his hair and swirled around the drain. Atlas stood there, water pouring over his face and into his nose, dazed but fixated on the swirling soap bubbles.

A soft knock from his bathroom door shook him from his daze. He shut off the water and searched wildly for a towel. He snagged one and threw it loosely over his waist. He cracked open the door to see Serena standing before him, her back turned. Her hands were clasped neatly behind her, resting on the small of her back. She bounced and rocked in place, waiting for the door to open. She had a tight dress on that accentuated all her curves. Her slim and muscled legs protruding from the hem of her dress irritated him.

Atlas cleared his throat and held a hand over his face. His ears burned from the hot water and the sight of the woman before him.

Serena spun around at his sound and smiled at him.

"You ready?"

"No." He swung the door wide to show her his half-naked figure. He tightened his grip on the door, flexing his entire arm. Serena opened her eyes and gulped. She spun around and shielded her face.

"O-Oh. I'm sorry. I'll just meet you downstairs then." She scampered off without waiting for his reply.

Atlas took a step after her but caught himself. He couldn't bring himself to this next conversation.

"I should just call this whole thing off." He said to himself as he slammed a dresser drawer closed.

He dropped the towel to the floor and slid into his clothes.

"No... This is for the best." He said as he threw on a light jacket.

He exited the bedroom and made his way toward the kitchen slowly. His mind raced as he thought of every possible outcome of this conversation, none of which was to his liking. He entered the sunroom and looked up to find Serena. She was snuggled against a few pillows on a loveseat, gazing out onto the dead field and the half-dead forest. He sighed and sat next to her. She jumped as the cushion sunk beneath his weight.

"I didn't hear you come in!" She slid over to him and snuggled against his chest. "You smell nice." She mumbled half to herself.

He patted her back with one hand but didn't move to embrace her.

"Thank you." He mumbled gruffly. "You-You look very nice."

She smiled at him.

"Thank you."

They sat there for a long moment until Atlas pulled away from her. She straightened herself and went toward the table.

"Why don't we eat?" Atlas motioned to her seat.

She nodded and sat across from him. The two enjoyed their meal and the pleasant but forced conversation until the sun dipped below the treeline.

Atlas wiped his mouth and cleared his throat.

"Serena, I need to tell you something." His voice and face strained, tight even.

Serena put her fork down and leaned on the table. She reached for his hand, but Atlas pulled away.

"What did you need to tell me?"

"I-" His voice failed him. His eyes wandered the room, looking for anything to fixate on, anything to give him confidence or reassurance. He found none except for on Serena's eager face. He sighed as his red eyes met her green ones. "Please do not interrupt me until I tell you everything. Can you do that for me? Please?" His face softened, and his eyes became vulnerable.

"Yes..." Serena said hesitantly.

"I-I know what happened to your father."

Serena's eyes sank, deep below the level of darkness that they should have had. She tightened her fist and sipped at her water.

"What happened to him?" She asked, her voice tense and confused.

"I-" Atlas paused, squeezing his eyes closed. He opened them and released a heavy breath. He looked up at Serena's nervous gaze, his closed and emotionless. The vulnerability he once had was gone. "I killed him. I murdered James Clell as you lay unconscious at my feet."