He lifts the weight to pass it to me. “That looks quite heavy,” I protest. 47 It is the last thing I say for quite some time, because as soon as my hands are on the bar, he lets it go, and it is like nothing I have ever tried to lift, or could ever try to lift. My arms just snap back and it’s instantly down on my neck. I’m choking, being crushed. He stands still, beside the bench; then his face is looming over me, close enough that I can see the blood vessels in his eyes. “I know,” he hisses, sending flecks into the air. “I know what you are. You’ve been lying to me.”
