Hoots and howls echo from the group and at the moment I can't find my voice so I just slowly raise my hand. Melissa guides us through the back of the gym to a small classroom and I keep my eyes on Sean as he spars with another boxer. His jaw is taught, his stance firm, he lets out a menacing growl as he pummels his opponent with blow after blow. His face is twisted and laced with such an intense rage that it takes my breath away.
Jaw clenched.
Ab muscles taut.
His opponent throws a punch and Sean manuevers out of the way, letting out a primal growl. Beads of sweat cling to both of their bodies, but drip down their ridges of muscle as they move back and forth across the ring.
The sparring partner’s punch enrages him further and he goes in for the kill, backing him up into the corner of the ring, nailing him with body shots and jabs to the face.
As the rest of the women in the class files into the room, Melissa walks up to the door and closes it, cutting Sean off from my view. In that moment I find myself thinking something I would never think of.
I think…I never knew rage could look so rapt, so daunting, yet so utterly beautiful.
~ ~ ~
There are several types of rage.
I've witnessed two of those types up close. When I was attacked I got a glimpse of psychotic rage. That kind of rage is merciless, and frightening, and doesn't relent until someone winds up dead.
The type of rage Sean just exemplified was predatory rage and it's only terrifying when you mess with something that belongs to that person. In this case the rage was aimed at Sean's opponent because in his eyes the boxing ring and title belt will always belong to him. At least that's what I got from my observance anyway.
Melissa cuts into my thoughts when she starts pacing across the length of the small, square room. The wall behind her is lined with wide square mirrors. I glance at my reflection, frown then look away. My hair looks frizzy and there are dark circles under my eyes. Normally I don’t look this bad, but I didn't really get a good night's sleep. I forgot to take my Ambien before bed because I was up late cramming for my English Lit final, and I feel asleep at my desk.
Peering over my shoulder I count the women in the class. There are ten of us total and we're all sitting on the plush, blue carp
eted floor. Facing Melissa, she starts to speak and I tune her out. I'm wondering if the rest of the women in the class have come here for the same reason I have. Were they ordered to come here because they had something traumatic happen to them in the past? Maybe they're here because they think it might be fun. No. That doesn't seem right. Who takes a self-defense class for fun?
“You!”
What if the women in the class have a horrible home life? What if they're spouses are abusive?
“Hey you!”
My head snaps up and Melissa is standing directly in front of me, staring down at me with a fierce look in her eye. “Yeah,” I answer her weakly.
“Would you like to introduce yourself to the rest of the class?”
“Sure. My name is Hadlee Flax. I'm a student at Carver University.”
Melissa smiles. “Very good. Nice to meet you, Hadlee.”
The rest of the class follows Melissa's lead. “Nice to meet you, Hadlee.”
“Nice to meet you all.” My voice is soft, small, and barely audible. I don't like being singled out, and apparently I've made myself a target for not paying attention when Melissa began the introductions.
“Join me for a demonstration, Hadlee.” This is a command not a request. Melissa leans down, extending her hand to me. I don't want to do this. I hesitate and look to Lara for some kind of back-up. She just shakes her head, shrugs, and gives me a nonchalant look that tells me I'm on my own. My fingers tremble as I take Melissa's hand and she helps me to my feet. I can feel my heart beating rapidly in my chest as a nervous flutter whips through my stomach. I really don't want to do this.
All eyes are on me and I keep my eyes on the floor as Melissa guides me by the shoulders, positioning me in front of her. “The first major component in being able to defend yourself is knowing where your attacker is.” Melissa steps in front of me and I meet her gaze. “Now Hadlee, I want you to close your eyes. Pretend you can't see your attacker. Without sight you need to rely on your other senses to locate him or her. Understand?”
I nod and reluctantly close my eyes.
The silence in the room is deafening. I strain to hear any movement Melissa might be making. But I can't hear anything. I don't remember if she was wearing any perfume or if her body was giving off any kind of odor because the smell wasn't distinct enough. My body stiffens when I feel Melissa's presence behind me. In a nanosecond, she's on me, wrapping both of her arms around the core of my chest. At that moment I panic. My neck, her hands are too close to my neck. In my mind I'm envisioning the hands I always envision. The calloused, manly hands. “No!” I shriek. “No!”
Before I can control my emotions I start screaming. My whole body is shaking and Melissa spins me around, her fingers digging into my shoulders. I bury my face in my hands, trying with all of my might to keep my tears from falling. My chest vibrates and my breaths are coming out short and raspy. Melissa shakes me gently. “Hadley. Hadley, calm down. It's all right.” Her voice is soft and soothing, but I'm still shaken up. I can't get the image of the hands out of my mind.
“I'm sorry,” I mumble. “I'm sorry. I thought... It felt too real. It felt too real.”
Melissa smooths back a strand of my hair and I drop my hands at my sides, finally able to control my breathing. I feel like I not only let Melissa down, but I let myself down. “Why don't you sit out of class today, Hadley. I'll have Lara fill you in on what we go over.” Melissa shoots a look at Lara. “Is that okay with you, Lara?”