'Get Someone to Hit You Very Hard'

The blanket of calmness that covered me was lifted, allowing the voices stream into my ears in bits.

Inside my head, little monsters were playing drums at a certain pace which was intensified by me trying to open my eyes. After continuous struggling, I overpowered the monsters and successfully got my eyes open.

My vision was a little blurry but gradually it became clearer and I could make out the image of my mother beside me.

"My baby..." She gripped my right hand firmly as if to prevent anything else from happening to me.

Judging from the white walls surrounding us, I perceived that we were in a hospital.

"Mom." I called faintly, and a weak smile fought its way to her face where worried lines ran through.

"You had me worried." She said in an effort to conceal the pain I knew she was feeling by Tamara's kidnap, but her pathetic effort failed woefully. I knew she had been crying before I awoke from my sleep because I found traces of tears on her cheeks.

I reached out to wipe away the remaining droplets of tears from her right cheek.

"Don't cry mom, we'll go through this together." I caressed the back of her hand which flattened out on the hospital bed. She sniffed and cleaned her eyes properly with a white handkerchief drawn from the back pocket of her plain pair of trousers.

My eyes went to the door which was opened slowly, heralding the entrance of a nurse who after greeting us silently, proceeded with her usual business and in a few minutes left in the same manner as she came, silently.

About two minutes after she left, the poor door flew open and the self-confident man I once knew as an egoistic idiot walked in, making a huge smile play with my lips. Seeing his own smiling and carefully structured face, my smile widened.

Telling from his clothes, I knew he came straight from his office to see me. Without glancing at the clock which I knew was somewhere above me, I knew it was a few minutes past five.

After greeting my mom who nodded subconsciously, he shifted his gaze to me.

"Hey." He buried his hands in his pocket as he spoke.

"Hey." I replied shyly, much aware that my mom lingered in the room, watching us closely. However, she cunningly sneaked out of the room and I smiled again, seeing how much she respected my privacy except on some occasions when I deserved her intruding on it.

"How are you doing?" He demanded, his eyes boring into mine, probably trying to analyse how I felt internally.

"I'm OK now, seriously."

He nodded and allowed his eyes wander around the wide room. Meanwhile, I imagined what was going on in his mind.

💭💭💭
The doctor discharged me after deciding I was well enough to leave the confines of my hospital room. I learnt from Philip who sat beside me during the drive to my house, that I was 'out' for less than a day as I blacked out at exactly eight in the evening yesterday.

Throughout the short drive home, all that occupied my brain were thoughts about my sister. I wasn't totally sure she was alive, if she was, what was she passing through? I groaned as thoughts about her being maltreated by her kidnappers haunted me.

Philip left immediately I stepped out of his limousine, saying he had something urgent to handle.

I met Michael seated on the porch tapping furiously on his iPad's screen. He had the same stressed out appearance as my mom, and I could tell from his drooping eyelids that he hadn't had sufficient sleep.

"Hi, Michael." He looked up from his device and let out a forced smile for my benefit.

"How's the case proceeding?" I asked immediately so he wouldn't waste his concern on me, as Tamara clearly deserved it more than me.

"Florence, the police aren't helping." He mumbled, running a finger through his already disorganized hair.

"What was that?" I asked to reassure my ears of their functionality.

"The police, they suddenly abandoned the case! My fiancee's kidnap case!" He yelled and I flinched. He stood abruptly and walked briskly towards a tree nearby. He kicked it several times with all his might, each kick serving as an outlet for his deeply felt anger.

I watched him hurl out all his rage at the poor tree, all the while, praying that the tree doesn't wilt from receiving so much negative energy.

Anger management was one of the courses I took while at the Fashion Management School, and according to a Professor, Mr Pierre; 'When you're angry, do not take out your negative emotions on the poor flower vases, plates, pictures, not even on any human or animal. Go somewhere secluded and quiet, preferably a cliff, yell all you want, just yell. It helps channel your anger to the atmosphere which will readily receive it and replace it with inner calmness. You'll end up in laughter when all your anger stores are exhausted.'

I found that lesson worth grabbing, although I do not get angry easily, I knew it would come in handy someday, and that day's today.

Michael after sufficiently punishing the tree with mad kicks wasn't satisfied with the tree's oblivion to him or his kicks, he clenched his fist and made to punch the tree which rolled its eyes (just kidding). I hurried over to him and restrained his rage-filled fist.

"Michael, that's enough." I spoke and held his fist which he gradually unclenched. Don't ask me how i managed to stop an anger-projected fist in motion. I guess one gets supernatural powers in desperate situations. (That or maybe adrenaline rush).

Michael's muscles relaxed and he turned to me wearing a sober expression.

"You have to be strong Mike, Tamara needs you right now, we can get through this together." I encouraged, allowing his hand drop to his side, reaching out to pat his shoulder.

"We were supposed to be married this month, we...I...I...we."

Uh oh.

He started pacing back and forth like a mad man.

Good! The second anger management tip; walk around randomly without thinking, just walk around. It will keep your brain occupied.

With swift movements of my legs, I approached the semi-madman and whacked the back of his head with my hand. He turned his gaze from the floor beneath him, to me, he observed me strangely like I had grown a ram's horn or something.

"Why..."

"Get a hold of yourself man!" I cut him off, totally surprising myself. Suddenly he burst out into laughter, bending forwards and clutching his stomach. He laughed like I said something really funny.

"What's so funny?" I demanded angrily.

"You know what..." he laughed some more before continuing his laughter-punctuated speech.

"For a minute, I thought you were my fiancee, you know, the bossy Tamara. She hits me like that when I do something that displeases her." He spoke like he wasn't the person who wanted to strangle a tree earlier.

He laughed some more and a grin found its way to my face.

Number 3: Get someone to hit you very hard, with a throw pillow or something, it'll help kill that mad rage.

My dearest readers, I'm glad you stuck to me throughout my last book, and I hope you do the same on this one.

I have random question and answer session below, read and understand!

I haven't heard much from Peter, where's he?

Well, Peter went on a long business trip from which he'll return soon, when he does come back, you'll be hearing from him. 😑😑

What happened to Tamara?

She was kidnapped, you know that right? Next chapter will reveal her plight in the talons of her kidnappers.

Who kidnapped Tamara?
My hand remains glued, I'm not exposing it yet?

That's all for now guys.

Tell me what you want to see as the book progresses. I cherish your comments and I expect to see them.

Millions of kisses,

Your Crazy Writer 😋