Page 143 of Shamed
All at once, I remember each training session I had with Mase, the maneuvers, the twists, the turns, hits and kicks.
All the strength I’ve built up at the gym has been for this exact type of situation.
Icandefend myself.
This man may scare me, but I’m not helpless.
Mase’s smooth voice fills my mind, instructing me on what I should do under all the different circumstances. I search through the information I’ve gathered, looking for the best option.
Against my natural instincts, I force my body to relax and stop fighting as much, enough to throw him off, then I wait for the creep to loosen his grip.
Noticing my lack of fight, he pauses. “You falling asleep, girly?”
He snickers, then shakes me a little, but I don’t react, not until I feel his hold on me slacken.
And then it’s go time.
There’s enough space for my mouth to open under his hand and my teeth to clamp down on his palm. At the same time, I kick back into one of his kneecaps,hard.
“Ahh, fuck! You bitch.”
Surprised, he drops his hold on me, but I don’t give him a chance or time to react. I spin around and kick him in the groin as hard as I can, and when he bows over in pain, I grab the back of his head and slam my knee into his face, feeling the crack of his nose. Next, I strike the back of his neck with my elbow, and he collapses to the ground.
Stumbling back a few steps, chest heaving, I stare at him with wide eyes.
Holy shit. Did I just do that?
Moaning, he holds his nose with one hand, while the other cradles the space between his legs.
He’s still very much alive, and probably quite pissed.
I’m not safe yet.
The situation comes back into focus, pushing me into action again. I run past him, making my way out of the alley and up my wooden stairs, slamming and locking the door behind me.
This time, I pull my phone out and call the police after jamming the door with a chair, instead of crying on the floor of my newly painted bathroom.
Residual fear and adrenaline course through me as I wait for them to arrive, causing my limbs to feel like they’re made of jelly. My legs are so shaky, I collapse onto the couch behind me.
Shock. I must be in shock.
Fingers trembling, I swipe open the screen again, trying to find the messaging app through my blurry vision, then I quickly send off a text.
Time passes, minutes, maybe longer, I can’t be sure, but then I’m recounting what happened to a young officer with a porn star moustache while his female partner stands to the side listening.
Besides a broken nose, the man,Mark, will be okay, and is being taken into custody. They found him limping down the street with blood dripping down his chin from his nose.
The female officer places a hand on my back once they’re done. “Is there anyone who can come stay with you, or who you can go stay with tonight, so you’re not alone?”
As soon as the words have left her mouth, my front door bursts open, and Mase barges in, worry etched on his face, his body coiled tight.
The moment his dark eyes land on me, there’s the slightest softening to his posture, and he’s stalking across the space to stand in front of me.
It’s been over two months since I saw him, and the sight of him sucks all the breath out of my lungs, replacing it with pure, fresh air.
He’s more handsome than I let myself remember.
Stubble now lines his jaw, giving him an even more rugged look than before, but his black waves, a touch longer, still look as soft as ever.
