Page 70 of Cornerstone

"No!"

"Punch. It."

"You know what? Fuck this!" I snarl, turning to walk toward the door. My mind goes haywire instantly. "I gotta get back tomy wife—to my sons—I-I gotta fix this—"

"Atlas! Don't you walk away from me!"

Stopping mid-step, I turn and spit out, "Fuck you."

"Fuck me?"he barks, a harsh laugh ripping from his throat, holding his hands out. "Yeah,fuck mefor raising a weak man who abandons his family!"

My anger flares violently, the words I've repeated to myself now coming from my father. I'm not seeing my dad in front of me; I see myself.

My weak, pathetic, useless self telling me the truth.

"Fuck you!"

"You angry, boy?" He sneers, pointing to the bag. "Show me. Fucking punch it!"

I sigh and throw a half-hearted punch.

His lip curls, and he crosses his arms. The anger is a thick blanket in this cold room, freezing and scalding all at once.

"What is going on, Atlas?"

I swallow hard, gritting my teeth against the words that threaten to explode out of me.

"Nothing."

"Wrong answer," he points at the bag. "Punch it."

Frustrated, I snarl and punch the bag harder, feeling the sting in my knuckles.

It hurts, but then there's... something underneath it.

A relief. A warmth, spreading from my chest outward. It feels good, and I want to grab it, hold onto it.

"Why did you leave your family?"

I shake my head.

"Punch it!"

I punch harder now, and then again.

The pain, the relief. It cycles again.

"Why, Atlas?"

Punch.

"Why, Atlas?"

Punch.

"You weak? Is that it?"

Punch. Punch. Punch.