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“But. Some hulking asshole comes after you, what’s your real first instinct?”
Morgan hiked up her shoulders. “Scream and run.”
“Exactly. If you can scream and run, you scream and run. If you can’t, you hide. Either of those can come first, depending on the situation. If neither’s an option, fight.”
Morgan balled her fist. “Punch him in the throat.”
Jen pivoted, grabbed Morgan from behind. “How? You don’t have room to use your fist.”
“Back to screaming?”
“Make all the noise you can, but defend yourself. We’ll start with a basic: SING.”
“I’ve heard of that.”
“Solar plexus.” Jen poked Morgan in hers. “Instep,” she continued, demonstrating. “Nose. Gonads—or groin in polite company. Come up on me from behind, grab me, and watch it the mirror. I won’t hurt you.”
When Morgan wrapped her arms around Jen, Jen tipped her own weight forward. “You lean your weight forward to give yourself more room. Then?” She felt the light tap of Jen’s elbow, solar plexus.
“The elbow’s your strongest weapon. Stronger than your fist—use it and mean it. The idea is not only to hurt your attacker, but to loosen his grip so you have more room. His instep is a weak spot, hit it.” Jen brought the heel of her foot down, gently, on Morgan’s. “Mostlikely, his grip will loosen enough with those two blows for you to turn. This.”
She held up her hand, heel out, tapped the heel with the other. “Strong, stiff, fast upward blow on the nose from the nostrils up, then recoil. Then knee, hard, sharp, straight into those gonads. These? Elbow, heel of the foot, heel of the hand, knee. They’re strong and hard. They’ll do damage.”
“So I can run and scream.”
“Damn right if it’s an option. Let’s just start with these four steps.”
It felt good, almost like a dance. It felt like action.
“Good, that’s the way. You don’t have to think about it, you just SING. Next week I’ll have a volunteer in here wearing a padded suit. You can really let it rip.”
“I’d like that. Who knew I’d like the idea of hitting somebody?”
“But let’s say he’s got your back to the wall.” After nudging Morgan to the wall, Jen pressed close. “And he’s got his hands around your neck.”
Jen lifted hers, then dropped them again, stepped back. “God, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
“It’s all right. I know you’ve been alerted. This is why I’m here. Show me.”
“He’s got you against the wall, you can’t get your knee up or get an angle with your elbow. Most people’s instinct is to claw at the hands cutting off their air. Don’t bother. What’s his weak spot in this situation? His eyes. Go for the eyes. Fingers are good, thumbs are best. Push your thumbs into his eyeballs like you’re going to shove them right through the back of his head.”
“Can I say ew?”
“After you’re clear. Thumbs, and his grip’s going to loosen because it’s going to burn like the fire of a thousand suns. If you’re upright like this, bust his balls, bring that knee up hard, elbow the gut. If you can get in a punch?”
She took Morgan’s hand, balled it, brought it to her own throat. “Aim there, or here.” Then shifted it to her nose. “Fist or heel of your hand, fast, recoil. Let’s try that.”
They practiced half a dozen times.
“Good, really good.” Jen gave her a light, friendly punch in the shoulder. “You catch on fast.”
“I still have to think about it and, well, I know you’re not going to hurt me, so there’s no panic.”
“It’ll get to be instinct, then instinct will cut through the panic. Trust me. I’ve been there.”
“Oh, sorry.”
“Maybe we’ll exchange war stories someday over one of those lavender margaritas. But now, you’ve got twenty minutes left. We’re going to shift focus. When I asked about your fitness regimen, you admitted you don’t have one. You did use to bike in good weather about ten miles a day. That’s why you’ve got strong legs.”
