Reviving Izabel

“I have to meet with Fredrik in an hour,” Victor says.

“Oh, so you’re dropping me off with a babysitter?” Lines deepen around my eyes. I shake my head at him in total disbelief, not to mention, offense.

“No, that’s not what this is about.”

“But I want you to teach me,” I repeat, pushing the words harshly through my teeth.

Victor sighs and shakes his head, appearing a

“You have no discipline,” he says. “None whatsoever. Just like my brother was.” That stings my pride. “How am I ever going to teach you anything when you can’t even do the simplest things that I ask of you?”

Instantly, I regret acting like such a child.

I let out a surrendering breath. “I’m sorry,” I say softly. “I guess I just imagined training with you.”

“You will,” he ensures me, placing his hands on my shoulders, “but for now, you need to learn the basics. And this is the best way to do it.”

“But why can’t you teach me the basics?” I ask with the same amount of surrender as before. “Why does it have to be him?”

Victor leans in and presses his lips softly against the corner of my mouth. “Because Spencer isn’t afraid to hurt you,” he says and it surprises me somewhat. “And I don’t want to hurt you if I can help it. The only way you’re going to learn is if it’s real.”

My eyes widen. “Wait…so you’re saying this tank,” I point over my shoulder with my thumb, “is going to hit me for real?”

“Yes. It’s what I’m paying him for.”

I think my mouth just fell on the floor. The air in the room suddenly hits the backs of my eyes.

“You don’t have to do this, Sarai, but if you’re going to, I want you to go all in. Don’t half-ass it. In real life someone attacking you isn’t going to go easy on you,” he goes on, gazing thoughtfully into my eyes, wanting desperately for me to understand and to trust him. “I’ll train with you when the time is right. But when I do it, it will be brutal, Sarai. I will come at you with the same force a real attacker would. You learn the basics first, obtain some skills that you can fight me with and then I’ll feel better about training you myself. Do you understand?”

I nod. “Yeah, I guess I do.” And I’m being honest with him. I totally understand now. And I can’t remember the last time I was this nervous to go through with something. But Spencer, the tank, doesn’t really scare me that much because I know deep down that even though Victor is paying him to not go easy on me, he still won’t hit me with everything he’s got. If he did, he’d kill me.

“Do you want to stay?” Victor asks.

“Yes. I do.”

“Good.”

He leans in to my lips again and kisses me deeply, stealing my breath away. Shocked by his u

“I’ll be back here to pick you up in a few hours.”

“OK.”

We walk back to stand with Spencer who looks somewhat excited to start training with me, as if I were a shiny new toy that he can’t wait to play with.

“Are you ready to start learning Krav Maga?” Spencer asks.

“Yes,” I answer and my eyes drift toward the people fighting on the black mat behind him.

“Are you sure you can handle it?”

I want to say yes with confidence, because after all, I always imagined that self-defense classes consisted of nothing more than simple blocking and hitting and screaming to let others know of my whereabouts. I always pictured average women who’ve never fought in their lives all standing around waiting for their turn to take the instructor down with a few ‘helpful’ moves. But as I watch the group training behind Spencer, the aggressive intensity and violence in some of their moves, I’m begi

“Should be simple enough,” I say without the confidence that I wanted.

“If you say so,” Spencer chimes in with a knowing grin that frays my nerves further.

But I’m not afraid. Nervous, yes, but not afraid. I’m ready to do this. I’m starting to look forward to it. I want to prove to Victor that I have what it takes.

And I want to prove to him that I’m nothing like his brother.

Victor leaves me and before the first hour is over I’m exhausted and so sore that I can hardly walk a straight line without stumbling.

“Always defend and attack at the same time,” Spencer says, standing over me lying beneath him on the mat, wanting to curl into the fetal position. “And never go down. This isn’t wrestling, Izabel. If you go down, you’re dead.”

Out of breath and trying to hold back the intense pain searing through the back of my calf muscle, I bring myself to my feet.

“Come at me,” he demands, his voice rising over the shouts of the few students still watching after the second hour. “If you don’t come at me, I’m coming after you!”

I’m too exhausted.

“I can’t!” I give up and fall against the mat on my butt. “This is too much. It’s my first day and I feel like it’s my first real fight. What happened to showing me what to do, teaching me how to hit?”

“Going light on you, that’s what you really mean, isn’t it?”

“Yes! Where are the instructions? The rules?”

My back is killing me. I lay against the mat, spreading my arms against it above my head, and stare up at the brightly-lit ceiling. I don’t care anymore about Spencer and his dive-in-head-first training. I just want to rest.

The fluorescent lights ru

“There are no rules in Krav Maga,” I hear Spencer say, but I realize a half a second later that it’s not Spencer dragging me.

It’s a woman, with light brown hair pulled into a ponytail at the back of her head. Confused by the turn of events, I’m too distracted to notice her foot coming down on my stomach. I yell out in pain, doubling forward as my legs and back come off the mat at the same time, my arms crossed over my abdomen. The breath is knocked right out of my lungs.

“STOP!” Spencer says from somewhere behind me.

I feel like I’m going to puke.

The woman stops instantly and takes a few steps back.

“Get up,” Spencer says and I decipher through the pain devouring my midsection that his voice is much closer than before.

I look up to see him crouched behind me.

“I’ll let you catch your breath,” he says gently and offers his hand. “This is Jacquelyn. My wife.”

I grab onto his forearm and he grabs mine likewise and lifts me to my feet.

“Nice to meet you,” I say to her with a God-awful grimace. “Or at least your foot.”

She smirks.

“Your man paid me to pretty much beat the shit out of you,” Spencer says. “But since I’m not in the habit of beating on women, I figure I should let my wife do the honors so that I can still get paid.”

“It’s the best way to learn,” Jacquelyn speaks up. “That man of yours knows what he’s doing. Brutal? Sure. Necessary to one’s survival in close combat situations? Absolutely. For frail little bitches who do the dance of terror when they see a spider? Absolutely fucking not.”

“Well, I’m not one of those,” I say icily. “That I can fucking assure you.”

“Then prove it,” she taunts, bending over forward with her hands opened halfway out at her sides. “Remember there are no rules in Krav Maga. Always defend and attack at the same time. Always fight with aggression. And never go down.”

“Yeah, I got that much. If I go down I’m dead.”

Jacquelyn pretty much beats the hell out of me for the rest of the session. And when Victor finally arrives to pick me up, my nose and lip are bleeding, my right eye is bruised and throbbing, and I think I chipped a tooth.

This goes on every other day for the next two weeks.