Cut Me Free (11 page)

Through the window on the door, I see the man across the street step out of the shadow. His short gray hair shines in the light of the approaching bus. It stops and he climbs on board. I take a deep breath and stand up, relaxing my tense muscles. Then I hear a soft sob and the scraping of glass against the wood floor.

“Lily?”

When I step forward, I see her crouched on the ground behind the host station. Broken bits of glass cover the ground before her. Cradled in her hands is the picture frame with her sister that I'd asked about earlier. Tears slide down her face, and I don't know what to say. It must've fallen off the wall when I slammed the door. All I can think is how it would crush me if someone had broken a picture of Sam.

“Get out.” Her voice sounds haunted. Gino walks over from the back room, and without a word moves to help clean up the glass. His eyes are cold and accusing when he glares up at me.

I struggle to find the right words, any words to express how sorry I am, but it doesn't matter. I know, were I in her place, there is nothing anyone could say or do to ease the pain. I whisper, “I'm sorry,” as I slip out the door into the night.

 

10

Jessie's Studio is a martial arts school on the corner a few blocks from my apartment. They specialize in a form of self-defense called Krav Maga. The studio is actually a bit closer than Angelo's. I hadn't warned Cam about Sanda when I asked him to teach me. I figure if I spring her on him, he might be less likely to argue and ask questions in front of her. At least that's what I hope.

Sanda and I are a few minutes early so we sit beside the wall while another class is finishing up. Eight adults move in sync with the instructor. Sway to one side, duck, sway to the other, kick, punch, punch—it's a violent dance. I'm glad I'm not on the receiving end of the instructor's kicks. She's petite, not much taller than me, and probably in her late forties. Her feet could do serious damage though. I wonder if this is Cam's aunt. Her dark eyes remind me of Lily's, but more friendly, which says a lot considering she just pinned a guy twice her size to the mat in two moves.

Sanda's watching every motion like she's trying to burn them into her memory. Her shining hair feels like evidence that I'm still a good person. I don't know how I'm going to make this work, but the only thing I'm sure of is that any life I build for her could disappear in an instant.

And if that happens, I want Sanda to be able to get in a few good kicks the next time she meets someone like Steve Brothers.

His name sends a chill down my spine and the dream from last night flashes through my mind. She's been with me five days now, but the memory of what I did to save her is still fresh. Nightmares of Brothers's skin melting in the flames as he screams and writhes on the dirty brown rug are far too regular. I'd been relieved more than once when Sanda woke me up—until I'd realized she was screaming, too.

Nightmares are just part of the territory. No matter how far we run, we can't escape the memories of where we've been.

I tried letting her borrow the electric blanket, but then we were both restless. She didn't understand why it helped me and I didn't feel ready to tell her about Sam. She sleeps better now that I started lying on the bed next to her. She doesn't let go of my hand most of the time. This morning, I'd thought it was Sam's hand for a few sweet moments. When I saw her dark hair instead of his spiky blond mess, it destroyed me all over again. I'm glad Sanda was sound asleep so she didn't see me fall apart.

The instructor and her class bow to each other and their lesson ends. The people gather their belongings to leave, and I get to my feet with Sanda only a moment behind me. The teacher walks over.

“Hello! What can I help you with?” she asks as she takes a long swig from her water bottle.

“Hi, I'm Charlotte. We have an appointment with Cam.”

“I'm Jessie.” She smiles and points across the room to where a guy just came in. I have to blink twice to recognize him. “He's right over there.”

Cam looks like an entirely different person in loose sweatpants and a sleeveless white shirt. His biceps are far more intimidating than I expected, but the rest of him is so casual, he could've walked in off the beach. The way his brown hair falls across his face as he sets down his bag doesn't help.

“Um, wow,” I say. I'm not sure what I expected, but it wasn't this.

I don't realize I'd said it aloud, let alone how it sounded, until Jessie sputters the water she's drinking and coughs. My cheeks burn and I turn my attention toward smoothing Sanda's hair. “I'm sorry.”

Jessie glances behind her and Cam tilts his head toward us. “He may not look that experienced, but he's my nephew. He really is the best. He teaches all the private lessons.” She grins and her skin wrinkles around her eyes. “Give him an hour, and I promise you won't be disappointed.”

I nod with an exaggerated sigh, knowing Cam is listening.

When I turn his way, he's leaning against the wall watching us with his arms crossed over his chest. He walks forward, his voice echoing in the large room. “Is this a friend of yours?”

“Yes, this is Sanda.”

He extends a hand to her and waits. She pivots to face him and stares at his fingers a moment before I see her swallow and place her hand in his. My heart aches; I know how hard that was for her. In so many ways, I wish I were more like her.

“Very nice to meet you.” He raises his face to watch me, leaving a list of implied questions in the air between us.

I clap my hands together. “Okay, so where do we begin?”

Cam laughs. “You want to dive in?”

“I think that might be best.” My voice sounds a little shaky. I know I'll have to let him touch me. I've been preparing myself. The idea alone turns me into a boiling pit of emotions, but I know I have to try.

“Are you ready?” His voice is soft and smooth, like silk across a hard floor. Taking a few steps closer, his hazel eyes bore into mine. Judging from how shocked he'd seemed when I asked for lessons, he
must
have an idea how hard this will be for me. Somehow, knowing he understands doesn't make it any easier.

“I am.” Sanda speaks from beside me. She is scared, but I can tell she's trying hard to be brave. I'm filled with sympathy. The first few weeks are the most difficult … especially around boys.

I step forward, but Cam motions for me to stay and beckons Sanda until she stands in front of him. “I'm going to take a minute to figure out what you two already know.” He kneels down by her and smiles, but I know him better. I see recognition in his eyes as they take in her fear. This is Cam after all. The first thing I learned about him was he always sees more than you want him to. “You look strong. How old are you?”

Sanda glances back at me and waits for my nod before answering. “I'm nine.”

His grin widens and he hops back up on his feet, moving fluidly into a defensive position. “Okay, Sanda. I want you to put your arms up like this. I'm going to come after you, like I'm going to grab you, and you try to stop me.”

Sanda doesn't move and her face seems like it's turned to stone.

My instincts flare and I have a strong urge to grab Sanda and run. “Wait, can we have a minute first?”

Cam stands and walks back to his water bottle. He shrugs like he couldn't care less, but his eyes never leave us.

Sanda walks over to me and I kneel down before her. “This isn't going to be easy. He's going to try to touch you. He will touch you.”

Her eyes are filled with panic and determination. “But it's okay?”

“No, it's never okay unless you feel okay, but I think we both need what he can teach us. You know?” With Cam listening, I don't want to say anything more specific. He might not be super-excited about teaching a killer like me how to defend herself. “For safety, in the future.”

Her lip trembles but she nods and turns back to face him. I can't stand seeing her fear and not taking it away, not trying to erase it when I know I can. Maybe we don't have to do this, maybe not yet, not today. I don't want to let Cam touch me any more than she does.

“Maybe we should start with something else.” I take two steps forward, but he raises his hand again for me to stay put. I stop, but watch Sanda closely. She takes another step toward the middle of the mat.

“I promise, I won't hurt you.” His voice is soft now and he bends low enough to meet her gaze. I see his eyes take in her shaking frame, and he waits as Sanda starts breathing again. “Do anything you want to me. Punch, hit, bite, pull my hair—anything to try to stop me. Okay?”

She nods slowly and raises her hands in front of her.

Cam drops low and comes closer. She kicks one foot and misses; it's feeble and tentative, but it's a start. She glances at me, and when I smile something in her expression changes. Her eyes turn back to Cam, and as they narrow I see a fierce fire in them I've never seen before.

He inches near and reaches one hand for her foot. She lifts it and stomps down hard, barely missing his fingers as he jerks away. A low chuckle escapes him and he stands up. With a move so quick I almost miss it, he grabs her arm. Sanda collapses to the floor so unexpectedly that he loses his grip and she's free again. He nods in approval as she gets to her feet, then he steps in a tight circle before diving in and wrapping both arms around her. She struggles with her arms pinned to her sides, but the way he's holding her, she can't get enough momentum to make her legs useful.

He keeps her in place for long enough to prove she's stuck before returning her gently to the floor. She whips around and throws her fists up in front of her again, but he waves his hands and takes a step back.

“Great job, Sanda. You're a real fighter. I like that.”

She doesn't drop her arms. I can read the uncertainty in her expression; she doesn't trust him to stop. I walk over and slowly push her arms down with my hands. Kneeling, I hold out a water bottle from the bag we brought with us.

“Good. It's over now.” I keep my voice low until I see her eyes focus and she grabs the water. This girl is so strong, so much more than I expected. My hand shakes by my side, knowing I'm next. I
will
find that same strength inside myself somehow. “Go sit down while I take a turn.”

I stand and Cam raises an eyebrow at me while Sanda walks to a bench by the wall. When I get to the mat, he winks and then crouches a little. “Ready?”

“Am I allowed to pull hair and bite, too?” I roll my shoulders back and draw in a slightly uneven breath.

“Sure.” A grin spreads across his face. “If you get the chance.”

I bend my knees and bring my hands up in front of me. It feels comfortable and like a mistake at the same time. The Parents never came at me with their bare fists. And I learned quickly that defending myself against wooden boards, knives, or leather belts with only my hands never worked out very well. I have the scars to prove it.

He ducks in and tries to grab my elbow. My heart races and adrenaline pumps through my veins. I whip my arm out straight and catch his cheek with the back of my hand. He dodges away at the last second, so it doesn't hit hard, but we both stand there, stunned.

“You're fast.” His eyes are wide; the smile comes back even bigger. “Nice.”

“Thanks?” I bring my arms back up as he returns to his stance. After a few feints for my arms again, he dives for my leg, but I lightly step out of the way. Huh, I
am
fast. How about that? The fear of him touching me dissolves a bit and I'm filled with an odd sense of pride. I grin, and Cam does, too.

He moves to one side, then dives in quick and wraps both arms around my waist. The panic floods back, slamming me hard and leaving me breathless. At the same moment, pain explodes at my side and I cry out. He immediately loosens his grip and lowers me to the floor. He's so close I can smell his deodorant, but all I can think about is the wet metallic scent of blood.

“What the hell?” Cam jerks his arm away. We both look down as spots of red appear on my clothes. His eyes scan the room, but he doesn't seem to find whatever he's looking for. He swears and tugs off his shirt, pressing it against my side. He doesn't pull back when he sees me flinch, but his voice drops into a low growl that sounds more like a chain saw than silk. “Why didn't you tell me you were hurt?”

“I forgot.” It'd been healing so nicely, too. I roll away, trying to escape the weird sensations his exposed chest sends through me, when he leans in close and it fills my vision. And I'd thought his biceps were intimidating … I keep trying to get up on my feet, but Cam pushes me back down. I'm used to having bumps and bruises. I'm not used to being around people that care whether or not they make me bleed.

Cam tugs at the corner of my shirt and I try to push his hands away.

“You forgot?” he says, as he glares at me, presses my hands down by my sides, and lifts the corner of my shirt. I hear him mutter under his breath when he sees blood already soaking through my bandage and examines the smaller, healing gashes encircling it.

“Okay, we're done for the day.” Cam stands up and moves behind me. Hooking one hand below my left arm, he lifts me to my feet with surprisingly little effort. As soon as I'm up, I twist to escape his grip. “I live next door. Let me grab my first-aid kit and I'll help clean you up,” he says.

No, no, no. Bad idea.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“P-Charlotte.” He groans and shakes his head. “I hurt you. The least I can do is clean up the mess I made.”

“Not your fault. I was already hurt. It was stupid not to tell you.” I grab my backpack and hand it to Sanda, who is standing between us with huge eyes. Before she has a chance to heft it over her shoulder, Cam takes it and wraps the strap around his fist.