Chapter 12 First day of training

Jessica laughed, rolled up the window, and the car drove away. A moment later, Jenny and her mother stood alone in front of the house, shivering in the frigid breeze.

"Let's go inside," her mother suggested. Jenny realized she was waiting for her mother's lead on what to do next. Being home alone together was rare, so she walked alongside her mother, matching her pace as they climbed back up the steps.

"Jenny," her mother said softly, with a hint of concern. "I need you to be honest with me. What's happening between you and your brother? I've never seen you act like this before, hitting anyone. Is this something related to school?"

Jenny felt a lump form in her throat as she avoided her mother's gaze, hoping her eyes wouldn't betray her. Her father had specifically asked her not to mention anything, mindful of how shocking news could affect her mother's fragile heart condition, potentially causing tachycardia or a heart attack.

"No," Jenny replied softly, brushing her hair behind her ears, though the wind was determined to loosen it. "I'm sorry, Mother. I realize our behavior hasn't been ideal recently. Especially mine."

They paused just outside the front door, and her mother placed gentle hands on Jenny's shoulders to face her directly.

"Jenny," she said, her eyes full of concern. "You can tell me anything."

A shiver ran through Jenny at the thought of revealing Julius's actions. How his coarse hands had gripped her skin, pulling at her clothes. Meeting her mother's eyes, Jenny saw the sincerity and openness there, but she also saw the fragility her heart condition brought. She closed her eyes, shaking her head.

"I know, Mother. I'm just... embarrassed by it all. I haven't felt like myself lately, and Julius..." She swallowed hard, her throat feeling painfully open, like forceps were stretched inside. "Julius has been checking in on me. I guess I've been feeling hormonal, with my period coming up, and I just lashed out at him. He was only... trying to help."

The lies burned as they left her lips, confining her to a distorted reality where she could pretend things were okay. Inside, a part of her pleaded for an end to it all, cradling her head in her hands.

"Oh," her mother replied, her eyes searching Jenny's face for any sign of dishonesty. Jenny mustered all her strength into a reassuring smile, prompting her mother to lean forward and kiss her cheek.

"We all have those moments. I've gathered you apologized and he forgave you from how you said goodbye this morning. Let's just forget about it, alright?"

Jenny nodded, glancing down to discreetly wipe away a rogue tear. Her mother didn't notice as she pushed open the sturdy oak door leading into the foyer. A staff member quickly stepped forward, taking her mother's coat and placing it neatly on a velvet hanger in the closet.

"Come now," her mother said, as Jenny rubbed her arms against the cold. "Let's have some tea to warm you up. I'll brew you some raspberry leaf tea; it always helped me at that time of the month. We'll have you feeling right as rain."

"Thank you," Jenny said, trailing after her mother to the kitchen. Her mother asked about her chemistry test, and Jenny watched their reflection in the large windows of the house, contemplating how these two versions of her—one broken, one ready for tea—could coexist.

......

The training area is a solid structure nestled discreetly on the property. It shares the same dim ambiance as the rest of the estate, with industrial-style lighting casting a warm yellow glow over the room. The walls are black and sparsely decorated, adorned only with various mats and weapons. Several blue mats are stacked on the floor, which is covered by a thick foam designed to soften falls.

Jenny had grown quite accustomed to this floor, though she could confidently say it didn't soften her landings as much as promised. For what felt like the millionth time that day, she found herself crashing back down onto it, panting, aching, and sweating from the relentless training sessions with Timothy, the family's private instructor.

"Again!" Timothy barked at her. Lying on the floor, Jenny groaned.

"Timothy, I've had enough," she protested, rolling onto her back.

"You've had enough when I say you've had enough," he retorted.

Jenny groaned once more, reluctant to get back on her feet.

Timothy had been the Swift family's trainer for eight years, starting at the age of thirty and becoming even stricter as he neared his forties. His features seemed to be carved from stone, and he possessed a demeanor to match. Everything about him was hard, rough, and unyielding—the perfect combat trainer.

"Your form is terrible!" he scolded. "You couldn't block a hit from a child, let alone an opponent."

With a sigh, Jenny hauled herself to her feet. "Okay, one more time."

She shifted into the proper stance: legs firm and about shoulder-width apart, a slight bend in the knees. She tightened her core and raised her arms. Despite her efforts, the wrappings around her hands were loosening, even though she hadn't landed a single hit.

Timothy assumed the same stance across from her, showing no sign of exhaustion. He paused for a moment before swinging at her. Jenny dodged, stepping back quickly. He swung twice more, giving her no time to catch her breath. She ducked another blow and managed to block one with her forearm, but he was suddenly beside her again. Gritting her teeth, she turned and swung with all her strength.

Timothy easily dodged her strike, kicking out her legs as he did so. She crashed back down onto the ground.

"Ugh, no more, please," she whined from the floor.

Just then, the door to the studio opened, and Richard walked in. A slight chuckle escaped him at the sight of Jenny.

Her normally pristine, wavy hair was now damp and tangled, and her face was undoubtedly beet red, matching her arms and legs, which were sure to bruise. Her clothes were dotted with patches of sweat and dust from repeated falls. Another groan escaped her, this time from embarrassment.

Richard's presence made her heart beat even faster. His dark clothing clung to his muscular frame, with his arms barely constrained by the black t-shirt he wore. A vest rested neatly over it, concealing his pecs and abs. How unfortunate, Jenny thought with a mix of admiration and frustration.

"I think Jenny has had enough for today," Richard said lightly. Jenny huffed from her position on the ground. Richard extended a hand to her, which she gratefully accepted, allowing him to pull her to her feet with ease as she regained her balance.

"She has not. She hasn't learned anything," Timothy stated firmly.

"The two of you need to rest. It's clear Jenny is exhausted." Timothy considered this for a moment before conceding.

"Fine, but I will let your father know how poorly you've been performing. Honestly, I've never seen such bad form or reaction time," he added. Jenny winced, knowing he wasn't wrong. Fighting had never been her strong suit.

"Yes, sir," she replied obediently.

Timothy shot a sour glance at Richard. "Good luck teaching her how to shoot," he said, drawing her attention to the holsters strapped to Richard's thighs. So that's why he was dressed unusually.

"More lessons?" Jenny groaned. Richard gave her a mischievous grin.