Martin sat in the car and watched Cheryl walk toward Turner's. Once she went inside he'd pull closer. He reflected on how she'd changed. She gone through a lot, more than most, and certainly more than she deserved, yet she was stronger, stronger by a country mile. He couldn't imagine her doing anything as courageous as facing up to a bully like Turner when the summer began. She was such a jittery little sparrow in June, now she was a mature woman about to beard the lion in his den. He hoped she remembered what the cell phone was for.
Cheryl walked to the front door and rang the bell. For a nickel she'd run and let Martin do this, but she knew she had to be the one. She was just starting to understand she had to fight her own fights. She couldn't depend on other people, and she certainly couldn't let Martin do this.
Turner frightened her. He was mean. He hated women, and he especially hated her. But she had to try. Where did she get the nerve to try what she was doing? This was something clearly out of her territory. Of course she knew where her strength was coming from. Her strength was sitting back in the car. All summer, through all the horror, all the fear, the humiliation there had been one constant, one defender, one protector, and one compass, Martin. He'd been right all along. He'd been there all along, and he was there right now.
She still wasn't sure how she felt about Martin. That wasn't right. She wasn't sure how she wanted to feel about Martin. He'd been her rock, her great support. She loved him for it, but did she actually love him? If she loved him, really loved him, it would require more than what's happened so far. Certainly he was everything she'd have wanted in a man once, but that was before Turner and all the lies. Martin had been a part of that, a big part of that. Sure she felt gratitude, but she felt anger too. Anger at herself for being so starry eyed, certainly anger at Turner for being a cad, but there was anger at Martin too. Yes she felt gratitude toward Martin as well, but was gratitude the same thing as love. No she knew it wasn't.
If she loved Martin, if she was going to really love him, it would have to be based on something more than the terrible events of the summer. In fact, if she was going to love any man, whether it was Martin, or anybody, it would have to be as an equal. She knew to achieve that kind of loving relationship she had a lot more growing up to do. Before she could commit to Martin she had to commit to herself. That commitment began right here at the doorstep of the monster.
Cheryl heard someone on the other side of the door. They called out. "Who is it?"
"It's Cheryl."
"Is Martin with you?"
"No."
The door opened. "What Martin couldn't make it?"
"He's waiting down the street."
"What he was afraid to see me."
"No he's just waiting down the street."
Turner gave Cheryl a smarmy grin. He stepped back from the portal. "Won't you come in?"
Cheryl stepped in the house. She looked around quickly and thought, same shit hole as yesterday. "I'm here for my personal papers and the video tape."
Turner, still smiling, answered. "They're right over here." He turned, reached around, and lifted up a paper bag. "Here you go. Everything's inside. Go ahead. Check."
Cheryl stepped a few feet away and opened the bag. She pulled out her purse and looked through it. She saw a tape at the bottom of the bag. "This is the right tape?"
"Everything's there just like I said."
Cheryl closed the bag, and stood as erect as she could. "Thank you. I'll be leaving now." She started for the door.
Turner moved between her and the door. "Not just yet sweetheart."
Cheryl tried to move around him. "We're done. Let me by."
Still with the same ugly look. "Don't you want to kiss your Turner good bye?"
"No. Let me by."
He started toward her. "Why? What are you going to do? You said yourself the big hero is hiding down the street." He moved closer, she retreated back.
"He's waiting for me. If I don't leave soon he'll come get me."
"Who, you mean our Mr. Martin? I don't think so." He kept inching her further back, further away from the door. "Our little Mr. Martin can't stand up to me. I could break him like a pretzel, and he knows it."
Turner had her backed into a corner. She kept her hands behind her back. She knew what she needed to do, but couldn't push the button. "Leave me alone Turner. We're through. Just the sight of you makes me sick."
He was on top of her, arms straddling her body. He towered over her. "You don't mean that." He moved his hands to her shoulders.
For a second Cheryl thought she could kick him in the groin, but saw he had his legs at an angle. The move she contemplated was impossible. "I said let me go."
He started rubbing up and down her arms. "Nice jacket, nice blouse. Did Martin get them for you?"
She took her one free hand, the one without the cell phone and tried to push him back. "Let me go Turner. Martin will be here any minute."
"No he won't. He's afraid of me. That's why he didn't come in himself."
Cheryl didn't answer him. She kept trying to push him with her free hand, while she kept her hand with the phone hidden. "Let me go."
He had her jacket open and started unbuttoning her blouse. "I think you need to get undressed Cheryl. I have a nice little bedroom upstairs for you. Remember? We'll go up and make mad passionate love, just like we used to."
She pushed the button and dropped the phone on the floor. Using both hands she tried to hold him off. "Let me go."
Turner had her blouse open and was squeezing her breasts when he heard something hit the floor. He saw the cell phone. "Awe. Did we call our Martin?"
She was trying her best to keep his hands away, but he'd already slipped her bra over her breasts. He started squeezing her nipples. It hurt horribly. "Yes, and he's going to fix you good."
Turner kept manipulating her nipples. They were turning an angry red. "Oh please now Cheryl." He leaned forward. "Give your old Turner a kiss."
Just then the front door opened.
Turner looked ahead at the wall past Cheryl's face. Shit he thought when he reached to get the paper bag he'd forgotten to lock the door. The idiot's in the house. A voice confirmed his thought.
"Let her go Turner."
He Turned and saw his old friend standing at the door. "Sure Martin." He started for his old friend.
Martin didn't hesitate. He knew all Turner's tricks. He moved forward and threw the first punch. It swept through empty air.
Turner swung back and hit Martin a glancing blow on the chin.
Martin threw a round house at Turner's jaw and clipped him a glancing shot.
Turner stepped back, but not before hitting another arching blow at Martin's jaw.
Martin made a leap forward and threw a quick combination to the chest and the stomach. The stomach shot got him. Turner crumpled over.
Martin ran to Cheryl. "Get your things let's get out here."
Cheryl fell into his arms. "Martin I was so scared."
"You did good Cheryl. That took courage to come in here and face him alone."
Cheryl looked up. "Martin! Look out!"
Turner had grabbed a large heavy green glass vase. It was easily two and a half feet tall. He swung it down with both hands. The blow was directed squarely at Martin's head. Cheryl threw up her hands to ward off the blow. It hit her left hand full on. She heard the sickening sound of breaking bone. But the vase still connected solidly with Martin's head.
It was a shattering shot, through Cheryl's upraised left hand right into the back of Martin's head, just behind the ear. Martin collapsed to the floor.
Turner stood over Martin. Still wielding the vase he laughed. "So it goes for our one time hero."
Cheryl was desperate. She knew her hand was broken, but if she didn't act fast Turner would land another, perhaps lethal, blow on the now helpless Martin. There was a stand with several umbrellas beside the door. It was all she saw. She ran for it!
Turner spun around intent on preventing the girl from escaping.
Cheryl reached for an umbrella, turned, and swung with all her might at her attacker.
Turner tried to avoid the blow. He stepped back, not far enough! The heavy handle of the umbrella missed his head but landed heavily on his left clavicle. There was a loud crack! He screamed! "You broke my collar bone!" He fell to the floor crying out in pain.
Cheryl delivered another punishing shot at the same spot, and received another welcome cry of pain. She threw the umbrella across the room and ran to where Martin was slumped on the floor. "Martin! Martin!" She screamed. There wasn't any response.
Turner was crying on the floor. "Get an ambulance. You've broken my collar bone."
Cheryl was apoplectic! She was certain Martin's injury was serious. She was a teacher. She'd had some training in first aid. He'd been hit on the head, and he had passed out. Certainly it was a concussion, and a serious one. Every second mattered! She fumbled with his body. She knew she had to act fast. What did they say? Shock! What happens when the body goes into shock! She remembered! It's like when one has car trouble, the first thing a person does is to turn the engine off. If she didn't act fast his whole system could shut down. He could die!
