Chapter 3 — Can't Move On
IAN
11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhNh6qWVU7P
Two months later
---
Thud.
The punching bag swung violently. I drove my fist into it again.
Thud.
Again.
Thud.
Again.
The impact echoed through the empty training room, bouncing off the concrete walls until the sound became almost deafening. I barely noticed. My lungs burned with every breath, sweat dripping from my forehead onto the worn training mats beneath my boots. None of it mattered. Because no matter how hard I trained... No matter how many hours I spent here... No matter how desperately I tried to exhaust myself... The memories always found me.
Every.
Single.
Time.
They always dragged me back... Two months. Two months since the Marie Central Building. Two months since Elena disappeared behind that door. Two months since I watched her sacrifice herself so the rest of us could escape. I clenched my jaw.
Move on. People kept saying that. Move on. As if grief had an expiration date. As if guilt could simply be left behind.
I couldn't. In the past two months alone, I have volunteered for 28 missions. Twenty eight Normally, that would have taken months. Maybe longer. Every mission became another excuse to search.
Another excuse to hope. Another excuse to believe. Whenever I wasn't outside the shelter... I was here. Training. Or helping the children learn how to defend themselves.
Sleep has become meaningless. I haven't slept properly in weeks. Strangely... My body never seemed to give in. It was as though every muscle, every bone, every heartbeat was waiting. Waiting for permission. Waiting for one thing. Bring her home. Only then... Maybe... It would finally allow itself to rest. Until then... I kept moving even just for Nowella I have to do it. I threw another punch. The bag groaned beneath the force.
One more.
Another.
Then
Rip
The leather split open. Sand burst across the floor. The heavy bag collapsed onto the mats with a dull thud. I stared at it silently. "...Damn." I exhaled through my nose before walking toward the storage rack. Another bag. Another replacement.
I lifted it onto the hook with practice ease.
As I tightened the chains, my gaze drifted across the room. The corner was filled with torn punching bags. Some ripped clean in half. Others are barely recognizable. I hadn't even realized how many I'd destroyed. Just as I tightened my gloves again A familiar voice echoed behind me.
"How long are you going to keep burying yourself under this much pressure?" I didn't have to turn around. I'd known who it was the moment he'd entered. Hog. I closed my eyes for a second. Then opened them.
Slowly removing one glove, I reached for the water bottle resting on the nearby table. The cold water barely touched my throat before I answered. "I've moved on as much as any sane person would." I looked down at the bottle. "You can't expect me to believe that Ele—" The name caught in my throat. For a moment... I couldn't say it.
It hurt too much. I swallowed hard. "...that she's dead." Silence settled between us.
"You all held funerals." I tightened my grip around the bottle. "You mourned." "You accepted it." Another pause. "But I can't."
I finally looked at Hog. "I can't believe she's dead." The words came out firmer this time. "Not to me." Images flashed through my mind. Her smile. Her determination.
The way she'd shoved me through that doorway. The terrified look in her eyes before it closed. "I know she's still out there." I could feel it. "I know she's suffering." "Because she saved us." The guilt pressed against my chest until it almost became difficult to breathe. "I'm going to find her." I shook my head.
"No..." "I have to find her." My voice cracked despite my efforts to steady it. "Not just because she belongs with the shelter..."
I lowered my eyes. "...but because she deserves someone to come back for her."
Hog remained quiet for a long moment.
Then he sighed. "I know." His voice was calm . Measured. "I know you're carrying more than anyone should." He stepped closer. "You and Elena developed a bond unlike anything I've seen in a long time."
He rested a hand against one of the training mats. "But you cannot lose yourself in the process." His eyes softened. "I'd like to believe she's alive too." "I truly would."
He smiled faintly. "She wasn't with us for very long..." "But what she did..." His expression darkened. "...was remarkable."
He looked away briefly before continuing.
"But Ian..." "The Reestablishment found her." His words landed like stones. "And we both know what that likely means." I stayed silent. Because arguing wouldn't change anything. No one believed me. No one believed she was still alive. No one except me and .... Well that didn't matter I have to find her myself. "I am not losing myself," I finally said. Hog frowned. "No?" He crossed his arms. "You've volunteered for more missions in the past two months than the rest of us combined." "Dameon tells me you spend nearly every waking hour inside this training center." His eyes settled on my bruised knuckles. "And yesterday..."
His voice lowered. "You killed fifteen infected." "By yourself." I said nothing.
"You ripped their skulls apart with your bare hands." The room fell silent. I looked away. Because he wasn't wrong. Something inside me had changed.
Something darker. Something I couldn't explain. Hog spoke again. "Whatever is happening inside your head..." His voice was almost fatherly now , "...you don't have to carry it alone." "We're here for you."
"But we can't help you..." "If you refuse to let us in." I remained silent. There wasn't anything I could say. No words would make him understand. No explanation would quiet the voice inside my head. The Reestablishment took her. Which meant...
That's where I would find her. Somehow.
I just didn't know how. I knew almost nothing about the Reestablishment.
Not its defenses. Not its layout. Not its security. Nothing. And yet... Every instinct I had pointed me there. I slipped my gloves back on. The leather tightened around my fists. Hog watched me for another moment.
Then, with a tired sigh... He turned and walked away. The training room became quiet once more. I lifted my fists. Prepared to hit the bag again. Then , Knock. The sound echoed from the doorway. Without turning around, I sighed. "Hog..." I rolled my shoulders. "I'm done with the pep talks."
A softer voice answered instead. "Ian?"
My entire body stilled. "I... want to help you." I turned immediately. Standing in the doorway...
Was Nowella.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡc5YGC3mkyV
→ Request update
and then Add to home screen.