Chapter 13

Ron Pov.
I have had anger issues since I was a little kid and my parents kept taking me to all kinds of psychologists in the hope that I would get better. It was all for nothing, because even after ten years of treatment, I was still angry and I got angry easily. My mother became afraid of me and my father was losing his temper. In fact, I could say that I was to blame for the fact that their marriage suffered. My parents started arguing more and more, then my father started beating my mother. I always ran to my grandfather who lived at the cabin, and he always knew how to calm me down. He was the only person who wasn't afraid of me and knew how to talk to me so that I would calm down. When I was fifteen, my grandfather passed away, and with him the hope that I would somehow manage to heal, so the next time my father raised his hand to hit my mother, I intervened. I hit him repeatedly until I realized he was not breathing anymore. Even the doctors couldn't do anything for him, and I spent a year at the correctional school. My mother never told me if she saw me as guilty for what I did, but I knew I was. I made the decision myself to change for the sake of my mother and turned to boxing. Punching the punching bag until I felt like my muscles were tearing helped me control my impulses a bit. But that didn't last long either. Two years later my mother died of cancer. When the doctors discovered that my mother was ill, it was too late to help her. Again I was left alone and hopeless and I can't say I'm proud of the things I did until I decided enough was enough.
Then, miraculously, a fifteen-year-old girl called me about the ad I posted and asked if it was still available. The ad was about my parents' house that I put up for sale at a bargain. But I want to say that the girl had such a warm and slightly trembling voice that I felt like I was walking on clouds every time she spoke to me. Then I saw her. She was with her mother. They bought the house where I grew up and where every time I entered I was haunted by the image of my father. But Amanda managed to erase all those dark memories and fill the house with nothing but happiness. She was my therapy and I changed for her after learning that she doesn't like violence.
Now, I can say that I am not that person like I was before. I don't get angry over the slightest thing anymore, and I certainly don't start breaking jaws out of the blue, but I have my limit of what I can take, and Joe has far exceeded that limit.
Max pulls me off of Joe and stands in front of me so I'm not tempted to jump on Joe again while his brother helps him up from the floor.
-Calm down, Stallion. You look like you knocked out a dozen people. how is your fist?
-Everything is perfect. He still has enough of me to make Joe unrecognizable.
-Finish. You must have already put him in a coma. You'll have to think about what you say to Amanda when she sees you in this outfit.
The thought of Amanda being terrified of me brings me to the ground and I look down at the fist I hit Joe with. If I hit a few more times, I would surely have reached the bone.
Damn…How am I going to explain this?
I start to wipe my hands with my t-shirt that Amanda wore in the water and hiss in pain. I'll make sure Amanda doesn't see this shirt until it's washed.
- Does anyone have their phone? I have to call an ambulance because I can't carry him. Paul says agitatedly, and I'm getting a pang of conscience so I hand him my phone.
-You are the last person I would ask for help. He says as if disgusted with me and I sigh.
-I'm really sorry, but your brother needs to think before he speaks.
-You beat him until you left him unconscious, and for what? Because you don't have enough courage to tell that girl you love her? Man, I feel sorry for you, but I think you have mental problems.
-Ok, guys... Let's calm down. Joe needs a doctor. Max can drive you into town. Karla says trying to calm the waters.
I don't care what happens to Joe anymore because from now on I don't want to hear anything from him or Paul anymore so I walk through the woods towards the cabin. Karla follows me and I only decide to stop when I hear her gasp.
I don't care about the rest of what happens to them, but I do care about Max and Karla. Max and I have known each other since correctional school and we developed a closer friendship than the rest of the group, and when Max met Karla and decided to introduce her to me after a while, she became likeable. I knew it was what Max needed.
-You can't appear like that in front of Amanda. She will run as soon as she sees you. Karla says as soon as she catches her breath.
-I'm not sure if I care about the way I look anymore.
- Well...Amanda cares. She is a pure soul, and you are… a beast.
Nicely said...Karla always knew how to ask the question without offending me. But I'm not a beast. I am the very demon from the bottom of hell, and Amanda... She must not be touched by my sins.
I nod to Karla, and she comes over to clean my face, a sign that I've been splattered with blood there, too, then arranges my hair so I don't look like I've just come back from war.
After Karla finishes her work, we continue to the cabin together in silence, each with his own thoughts.
I enter the cabin and head to my bedroom. When I open the door I am surprised to see the room empty.
-Amanda? are you in the bathroom?
I get no answer so after knocking twice on the bathroom door I open it, only to see the bathroom empty.
What the hell?!
I look for her clothes, but the suitcase she came with is nowhere to be found. I take the phone out of my pocket and call her but am directed to voicemail.
I knew by the way he left that something was wrong. I had to follow her and insist that she tell me what the problem was.