Mateo’s first lesson during our self-defense class rings in my head.
“Do not give them a chance to take you. If you do, you’re already dead.”
Immediately, I start looking for any weapon I can grab. But my hands are bound behind me, in front of the monster; it won’t work.
I think again. Then I remember, in one of Mateo’s lessons, he showed me how to escape an attacker from behind. The memory comes to mind so clearly that it almost feels like we were back in Mateo’s gym.
It’s my only chance, and he won’t expect me to try. He thinks I’m a helpless woman. He thinks I’m too scared.
I close my eyes, bracing myself for the impact, before I stop in my tracks and drive my head back as hard as I can, hitting his face. The impact shocks him, and he lets go of my arms.
I bolt.
When I look back, I can see him with both hands on his face, trying to stop the fountain of blood on his nose. The back of my head stings, but I ignore the pain and run towards my room.
Mateo’s second lesson:find a weapon.
He always kept a handgun in my nightstand, saying, “Younever know when you need it.”
As soon as I’m in the room, I slam the door shut and lock it. I push my vanity behind the door, knowing the lock won’t be enough.
Then I drop to the floor, tucking my knees to my chest. I strain, forcing my bound wrists down past my hips and under my legs, stretching my shoulders to the breaking point, but I push forward.
Snap.
I feel something pop in my right shoulder, and I wince. With my hands in front now, I’m able to remove the cloth from my mouth. Then, I scramble to the nightstand and rip open the drawer—my fingers close around the cold grip of the Glock in no time. I rack the slide.
BANG!
The bedroom door splinters as the man kicks it. The first kick is enough to destroy the lock. Then comes the second kick.
BANG!!
He kicks again, and this time the vanity table topples over. As he steps into the room, blood pouring from his broken nose, his eyes murderous.
“You little bitch,” he snarls. “You just made this very painful for you.”
I raise the gun with both hands and don't hesitate.
POW-POW!
The recoil jars my shoulders as I shoot.
Twice.
The man grunts before clutching his chest and dropping to one knee. I don’t wait to see if he’s dead.
I run to my balcony and climb over the railing that connects to Mateo’s balcony next door. I run through his room and back out into the hallway.
I can’t leave him behind.
I run to his office and drop to my knees, "Mateo!"
His eyes flutter open, hazy and unfocused.
“Get… out of here. Run…” he wheezes, blood dripping past his lips.
“Come with me!” I sob.
