The Anathema by Zachary Rawlins Read Free Book Online

swollen face. It cost him a stomped foot and a bloodied nose from a punch that barely grazed him, but Alex finally saw what he had been waiting for.
    He’d seen it the first time a week earlier when Michael had convinced Alex to start utilizing the jab that he had previously regarded as ineffective. Most of the time, it was still tempting to swing for the fences, particularly when Steve (and Miss Aoki had a sadistic tendency to pick out Steve to be his ‘partner’ for these exercises) was the person at the other end of his fist. Alex walked him all over the place that day, backing away and wheeling and counterpunching, no real plan, just hoping to tire him out. It worked for a while, and then the big goon got inside, dropped Alex with a body shot, grabbed him in a full nelson, and drove him into the ground. However, before that happened, Alex saw something that he knew was interesting, even if he didn’t know exactly what to do with it; namely, he saw Steve misstep.
    When he was very tired, Steve would step over his own foot, particularly if Alex moved to the left. So Alex consulted Michael again, and then spent days practicing the plan they came up with. For a week, he absorbed terrible beatings, trying to figure out what it would take to tire Steve in the first place. When he brushed his teeth at night, he visualized himself doing it; before he fell asleep, he imagined how it would go. There was a certain dreamlike quality when he finally saw it happen in front of him.
    His heart leapt into his throat and he had to stop himself from jumping forward in frenzy. Instead, he followed Michael’s plan. Alex remained patient. He took stepped to his left, then he coiled his legs beneath him and waited to pounce, knowing that if Steve didn’t misstep, that wouldn’t be able to do much to defend himself.
    But Steve got lazy.
    He stepped across his own foot, the tip of one trainer scraping the laces of the other. Alex launched himself at Steve, leading a wide, looping punch that started too far back for Michael to approve and ended with a satisfying smack below Steve’s ear, right above the base of his jaw. Steve grunted and fell to one knee, the first time he had ever even been dizzied by one of Alex’s punches. Alex was sure he had broken his own hand, the way it immediately started throbbing, but that didn’t matter now. He kept coming forward.
    Alex drove his right knee into the side of Steve’s head as hard as he could manage. Steve went limp and fell sideways, his eyes weirdly defocused. Alex felt a brief moment of triumph before he collapsed in a heap himself, uncertain whether to clutch his bruised knee or his broken hand.
    “Reset.”
    Steve shook his head, spat, and then stood up, stumbling his way out of the circle, a yellowish-purple bruise already forming on the side of his head. He wobbled his way to bathroom, and everyone politely ignored the sound of his retching. Gustav watched from his corner looking amused, that is, if his eyes were actually open. Alex was still writhing on the ground, his arm held close to his stomach and his body curled around it. Mitsuru watched from where she sat, Japanese-style, without comment. Anastasia sighed from the doorway, and then shook her head.
    “It’s his arm again,” Anastasia said reluctantly. “Do you want me to have him taken to the infirmary?”
    “Alex needs to learn to ask for help. Alex needs to learn that there are consequences for his actions. These are all important lessons that he is being taught by this experience.”
    “I see,” Anastasia said quietly.
    Anastasia sat down quietly next to Mitsuru Aoki, and they remained there, side by side, watching the boy thrash and moan, while the rest of the class filtered out quietly, and Renton waited patiently in the corner. After what seemed like a very long time, Alex struggled up into a sitting position.
    “Is the implication that if I ask, then somebody will help me?” Alex asked through painfully gritted