The Scars of Us (7 page)

Kamden eased his hold on me before gently rubbing my arms.

Slowly turning around to face him, I rasped, “I’m so sorry, Kam.”

“Don’t apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for. I threw too much at you at one time.” Looking toward the mirror, he continued, “I’ll have to get that replaced.”

“Maybe it’s better if you don’t,” I suggested. When he gave me an inquisitive look, I explained, “I try to avoid looking at it all the time anyway.”

He nodded before cautiously lifting his hands up to my face. He turned it side to side, examining my skin. “Let’s get you cleaned up—you’ve got some cuts.”

As he walked to the sink, I raised my hand to my face, tenderly touching the areas that were now starting to burn with pain. Blood dotted my fingers when I pulled away, and I couldn’t believe how fast I had lost control.

Kamden came back before leading me to the toilet. He sat me down before kneeling in front of me with cotton balls, peroxide, and antibiotic ointment.

“This is going to sting,” he warned.

I flinched slightly as he gently cleaned my wounds, and once again, I was awed by how amazing he was.
I don’t deserve him, but God knows I need him
. I would’ve never survived everything without him.

When he was finished, I began to clean up the mess of bloody cotton balls and glass shards on the floor while Kamden went to grab the broom. As I looked at the fragments on the floor, I thought of how much they resembled me—shattered pieces of what they once were. I didn’t want to be like that, didn’t want to be a broken shell anymore. I wasn’t going to keep letting Kaleb dominate my life—I was going to take control.

When Kamden came back, broom in hand, I stood and faced him. “I’ll go.”

“What?” His eyes scrunched in confusion before searching my face.

“I’ll go with you to the hospital. I want to do everything I can to make sure he doesn’t get released.”

“Are you sure? After that episode, I don’t thi—”

Interrupting, I replied, “I want to. I want to take control of my life. I don’t want to be afraid to live anymore. And I want to take self-defense classes at the gym—I want to be prepared in case he does get released. I want to be able to fight back.”

Smiling proudly, his huge grin lit up his stormy eyes. “Okay,
sorella.
I’ll be with you every step of the way. Anything you need.”

Returning his smile, pride swelled within me as I hugged him.
You can do this. You will do this.
And with that, I took the first step to becoming whole.

Shock didn’t begin to express how I felt when Kaiya walked into my self-defense class on Sunday night. Class didn’t start for another fifteen minutes, and she was the first one there. Her eyes reflected the same surprise that I felt as her body stiffened in uncertainty, like a deer right before it bolts away from danger.

“Hey,” I greeted. “Welcome to Self-Defense.”

“You’re the instructor?” she asked in disbelief.

“I am,” I grinned.

Mumbling something indiscernible, she set her gym bag down on the hardwood floor against the wall before making her way toward me. As she neared, I saw small cuts on her face, and I couldn’t explain the anger that filled me at the thought of someone hurting her.

“What happened to your face?” I all but spat.
Calm down.

Her eyes widened, my question taking her off guard. “Why do you care?” she retorted defensively.

Why does she have to be so stubborn?
“Just tell me. It’s suspicious that you want to start my self-defense class after getting those cuts on your face.”
Yeah, that’s the only reason I want to know.

Her face relaxed as her features returned to normal. “Uh, my cat scratched me.”

Her voice lacked confidence. I didn’t believe her for a second, but I didn’t want to press the matter. If I wanted to get closer to her, have any kind of chance with her, I needed to gain her trust. I couldn’t push her away by interrogating her, even though I really wanted to know what happened.

“I think you need a new pet,” I joked.

She gave me a small smile as she fidgeted nervously with her hands. But without missing a beat, she changed the subject, “I’ve never taken a class like this before. Can you tell me what to expect?”

“Well, we start off with warming up on the bags,” I answered, gesturing to the standing punching bags along the walls of the room. “I demonstrate different combinations you can use, and you perform them on the bags. Having the foundation of knowing basic punches and kicks will help you in any situation because you can’t predict what an attacker will do. I want to give you as many tools as possible to help you defend yourself, and kickboxing is a great platform for that.

“Then, we have an open request forum. I take requests from the class and show techniques on how to defend yourself in specific situations, which you will then practice with me or one of the other instructors.”

Her eyes widened apprehensively, showing fear from my words. I had to stop myself from trying to comfort her.
Why do you care?

“Everything okay? You look conflicted.”

“Maybe this isn’t for me—I don’t like to be touched, especially by strangers.”

Interesting; she didn’t seem to mind me touching her the other night. Well, until the end. I wonder what the story is behind that.
I shoved my concern for her away as I stated, “If you don’t like to be touched, you need to know ways to prevent it from happening, to protect yourself from the people that don’t care what you want.”

Uncomfortably sighing, she asked, “Can you work with me? I don’t think I’ll be comfortable with anyone else.” Her eyes widened, her cheeks flushing red as she stammered, “Only because I already know you. Not because I want you to touch me or anything.”

I chuckled before replying, “Whatever works for you—I want you to be comfortable. If you’re not comfortable, then you’re less likely to come back.”

She nodded before exhaling a heavy breath. “I’m really nervous.”

“Don’t be—we’ll take it slow. I try to give specialized attention to all the students based on their strengths and weaknesses. I’ll help you every step of the way.”

A small smile graced her beautiful lips, causing my stomach to tighten.

“Thank you. I really appreciate it,” she said softly.

“No problem—just doing my job. Go ahead and get stretched out before we get started.” I turned to walk away, but stopped and asked, “Do you have gloves?”

“I didn’t know I needed them. Can I still take the class without them?”

“Yeah, I have some. They’re old and worn, but they’ll work until you get some of your own,” I said as I walked to the small closet in the corner of the room. Rifling through my storage of kickboxing supplies, I found some gloves that I thought would fit Kaiya’s small hands.

When I exited, Kaiya was bent over, touching her right foot gracefully with her fingers as she stretched. Her ass was to me, and I couldn’t help but imagine entering her from behind, sinking my dick inside her pussy as I pounded against that sweet ass.

Fuck, stop. Focus—you’re about to teach a class.

I cleared my throat before I spoke, my voice slightly cracking, “Here are the gloves.”

Straightening, she turned and took the gloves from me, barely brushing her fingers against my palm. “Thanks.”

Giving her a slight nod, I turned away and walked back to the supply closet again, trying to distract myself from thoughts of Kaiya and sex.

Minutes later, the other students began to trickle in, along with the other instructors, Mark and David. They were there to give the students real life models to practice with, ensuring they became accustomed to what a typical man’s body feels like when they attack since a man’s weight and strength were huge factors in overpowering women. All the techniques I taught would be almost useless if they didn’t have training utilizing them against a man.

After I had demonstrated the first combo, I walked over to Kaiya to see if she needed help while the others started. She attempted the maneuver, but her form was off. Way off. She’d probably never been in a fight before.

“I’m doing it wrong, aren’t I?” she asked, blowing a strand of her hair off of her face in frustration.

I laughed lightly, “Not completely. You’re doing a lot of things right, but your form is a little off. Let me show you again.”

Repeating the combination again, I said the moves aloud for her to hear. “Jab, punch, palm strike, elbow, elbow, knee, front snap.”

“What’s the difference between a jab and punch?”

“Well, a jab is basically just a quick punch using your front hand. A punch is thrown from the back hand, and has more power than a jab,” I demonstrated as I answered her.

“Okay, jab is front hand, punch is back hand,” she said, copying my moves.

“You got it. Let’s try the combo again.”

As I showed her once more, I could see her mimicking me out of the corner of my eye.

“Remember to always keep your hands up to protect your face when you’re not punching. One good hit to the head and it’d be over for you.”

Bringing her fists up in front of her face, she asked, “Like this?”

“Yes. You also need to twist your body when you punch—it gives you more momentum, thus giving you more power. Try again.”

Doing as I requested, she executed the combo, hitting the bag more forcefully.

“I do feel more power that way,” she commented enthusiastically.

“With any method of self-defense, just a small adjustment usually can make a huge difference, whether it be positive or negative. Any mistake could result in injury, while perfect execution of a technique could save your life.”

“I’ll make sure to remember that. Thank you.”

“No problem. Switch legs and keep going, alternating each time.”

Nodding, she changed her stance to her left leg before starting again. Each time she completed the combo, her movements became more fluid, her hits delivering more power as they connected with the bag. I couldn’t stop the smile that spread as I watched her. The determination was evident on her face as her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Plus, the fact that she was getting all sweaty and flushed turned me on—a woman was so sexy when she worked out.

Once we finished several more combinations on the bags, we switched to freestyle techniques.

“Five Minute Freestyle! Give it all you got!” I announced.

Everyone knew what that meant, except Kaiya. As everyone started pummeling their bags, I walked over to her, surprised to see that she was already punching and kicking her own bag.

Her eyes locked with mine, causing her to miss landing her punch and stumble slightly. Her already flushed cheeks reddened more as she gave me an embarrassed smile. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You’re doing great. Just keep doing the moves you learned today however you want for the next five minutes. Don’t stop, no matter how tired you are.”

She turned her attention back to her bag before slowly repeating several of the combinations I had taught today. I couldn’t wait to see her once she got more comfortable, once she let go and allowed that warrior to break through that I glimpsed every so often when she argued with me.

Once the five minutes were up, I gathered the group on one of the mats. “Awesome workout, everyone. Before we start the self-defense techniques, I want to introduce Kaiya. She just started working out here and is testing out our class. Please give her a warm welcome.”

The other students greeted Kaiya, who blushed profusely from the attention while glaring at me playfully. She waved her hand to everyone as she shyly said hi.

Redirecting everyone’s focus back to the class, I asked, “Anybody have an attack you’d like to practice defense against? Even if we’ve already learned it before.”

One of the older women raised their hand. “Can we practice when a guy traps you on the ground? That still scares me, and I think we can never have enough practice with those escape techniques.”

Murmurs of agreement flowed through the class, except Kaiya, who remained quiet and still. When our eyes locked, I could see the apprehension and anxiety in her strained face.

“Okay, everyone pair up with your usual partners,” I said before making my way to Kaiya. “I need to catch you up on some basics before we start the escape techniques, okay?”

Nervously nodding, she replied, “Okay, sure.”

“Before we start anything, there’s one thing that I must stress. Always protect your face—do not get knocked out. Most attackers will immediately try to punch you and knock you out before anything else. If you’re unconscious, they can do whatever they want to you—kidnap, rape, or murder you. Got it?”

She gulped before meekly replying, “Yes.”

“Okay, the first move I’m going to show you is called the Shrimp. You mu-”

“The Shrimp?” she laughed, interrupting me.

“Yes, the Shrimp. Let me finish,” I chastised playfully before continuing. “You must master this move before we can start any other techniques. Lie down.”

Surprisingly, she did as I requested without argument.
That’s a first.

When she was flat on her back, I instructed, “Bend your knees. Good, now, when you’re being attacked, you need to determine which direction you are going to try to escape from. If you want to go to the right, your right leg is going to remain planted to the floor, along with your left shoulder. If you want to go to the left, then it’s the opposite—got it?”