Chapter 4 Chris Donovan vs. Shane Lewis: There's no love like the first...Painful emotions!

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Shane threw punches at the tall leather punching bag as if he was fighting the devil himself. He threw combinations, hooks, jabs, and uppercuts, interspersed with blocking motions from his fists and elbows. Sweat poured down his face and body but Shane didn't even pause to wipe it off. He was still in his dress pants, having moved directly into his gym immediately he'd gotten home from the meeting at Damon's office. He actually had to call his office to cancel all his meetings for that day because he couldn't see himself concentrating much on anything that day.

Immediately he'd gotten out of his car, Shane had started taking off his jacket, tie, shirt, undershirt and watch as he headed for the punching bag, moving like a predator whose deadly eyes were fixed on its prey. He'd only taken the time to wrap his hands, opting not to waste his time by fixing gloves. Then the punching bag had received his full wrath and attention. The scary thing was that try as he did, Shane couldn't stop hitting the bag.

There was a myriad of emotions swirling through Shane as he threw the punches. Anger was foremost, then there was sadness, betrayal and for the first time in years, utter wretchedness. Why he felt like that after all these years, Shane had no idea. It actually felt like he was back to that night all those years ago. Shane felt every physical pain he'd felt at the hands of Chris that fateful night. Shane had been a mere slip of a boy and Chris had been rather big for his age. The blows had hurt, but Chris' words had hurt even more. Chris' cruel words had hurt way more than the pain inflicted by his heavy punches for some reason.

Maybe Shane would have fought back but those hurtful words had taken the fight out of him. He'd simply laid there and taken the blows as though he deserved it. The blood, tears, and snort had kept flowing till Shane couldn't feel a thing. Looking back, Chris' words hadn't been any different from words kids their age then usually used when insulting other kids. Being called filthy, worthless, and scum who didn't deserve to live was nothing out of the ordinary amongst teens and in Shane's world. The only difference was that this time, it had come from someone Shane was in love with...someone he'd thought was his world. It had hurt so fucking much.

Shane hadn't even known when the blows had stopped. He'd just realized the room was quiet. Then he'd looked up and realized he was in the room alone. There had been no sign of Chris. Shane had managed to drag himself downstairs to his mother. And the look on his mother's face when she'd seen a bloodied Shane had broken Shane's heart all over again. All Shane had managed to say was 'Chris'.

Somehow Sylvia Lewis had looked like she knew exactly what had gone on. Shane didn't know how his mother had figured it out but it was obvious she had. With a determined look on his mother's face, she'd quickly cleaned him up as best as she could, given him some painkillers to swallow, and then packed up their stuff. Surprisingly, the hurt in his mother's eyes had affected Shane even more than the hurt he felt because his mother had treated Chris like a son. She had looked so hurt and betrayed it had been disheartening.

Shane had sat quietly and watched as his mother packed. Then when his mother left the room to go and inform the caretaker, Mr. Watson, of their departure, Shane had sneaked back upstairs with the box of dominos that Chris had given to him as a gift and left it at Chris' door. Then he'd left with his mother and never looked back. He'd never shed a tear...for anything, since that night. But he'd vowed to make something of himself in life, just to prove to himself that he wasn't worthless. In a way, he had Chris to thank for his strive at success...but also definitely for his fucked up nature.

When Shane saw the white substance scattered all over the floor, he was confused as to what it was and where it had come from. Then he saw the slit in the leather on the punching bag and groaned.

"Fuck!"

Shane started for the shower, unwrapping his hand as he went. He hurt, and not just emotionally. He didn't remember the last time he'd used the punching bag so he wasn't surprised at the pains he was feeling. His muscles screamed in protest as he slowly removed his pants, the tiniest of movements triggering another round of stabbing pain. When he finally managed to step into the steaming shower, he braced his hands against the front wall, bent his neck, and allowed the hot water run down over his shoulders and back, hoping it would soothe at least part of the ache there. He knew the effects would not last long.

As he stood beneath the shower, he suddenly started trembling so much that he sat down and simply allowed the water to pour down on him. God, he hated the way he was feeling. And all because of one person. He had to make sure he never came face to face with Chris ever again. Unfortunately, they had a meeting at his house in four weeks. He couldn't possibly tell Damon not to bring his adviser and banker to the meeting. Neither could he absent himself as the meeting was taking place in his home. There was nothing he could do but psych himself up to meet Chris again.

"Damn you, Chris Donovan!" Shane's roar rumbled all through his body, sounding almost like an animal in pain.