Olympic Dreaming Ch. 03

This will make more sense if you've read Chapter 1. The initial three chapters introduce the characters, and no intimacy will happen until chapter four when they are over eighteen. The series will include first-time and group sex but also includes mentions of suicide and attempted rape; if that upsets you, I suggest you don't start.

Chapter 3

I had a few weeks off after my eventful trip to the Isle of Mull; the first week, I spent processing what had gone on and if I had handled it well. I thought Alicia was in a good place now in her head, but you can never tell. I regretted not exchanging numbers with her mum to see if she was still okay, but I hadn't thought of it then. None of us were thinking about much more than how glad everything had turned out.

In early September 2009, I started year twelve at a sixth-form college to do my 'A' levels. I was taking Computing and Maths as well as continuing French and Spanish. I had done very well in all four subjects in GCSEs and wanted to continue languages so I could travel in the future, either for work or pleasure. I continued doing judo and taekwondo twice a week, and most weeks, I still went to jujitsu with Wayne. He wasn't doing 'A' levels, preferring to start an apprenticeship at a local company. He had changed so much over the previous twelve months, and while not a good friend, I enjoyed what time we spent together. Strangely, he and Dafydd were now also on good terms.

That Christmas, we visited Sweden for a week to see my grandparents and cousins. My mum took us out cross-country skiing through the forests; it was something she adored and was how she met my father. He had gone to the 1988 Winter Olympic games to support a good friend on the GB bobsleigh team; my mum competed in cross-country skiing for Sweden, where she finished fifth. They bumped into each other one evening, hit it off, and started dating later that year. So, obviously, she had to wait for us to catch her up, but we'd been doing it for several years now, so at least she could say she had a reasonable workout. My father and I felt the burn once we'd returned, tired but happy. There's something extraordinary about skiing like that through quiet, snow-covered forests, seeing the occasional elk and passing frozen lakes.

I flew to the Taekwondo Junior World Championships in Tijuana, Mexico, with my dad in March. It was my first time outside Europe, and Team GB had a dozen people enter. The team flew from Heathrow in London and stopped in Chicago for the night before getting another flight direct to Tijuana. I had competed in some European events, but this was the largest I'd been to, so I was nervous about how I'd perform. We were all given Team GB tracksuits, and I was very proud to disembark at the airport wearing them. We shared a hotel with several other countries and had a section of a sports hall we could use to practice, and we had a couple of days to get used to the time difference and try to get in the zone.

There were eight potential rounds to get to the final over two days. I started in the morning against someone from Russia; I'd fought him before and, like earlier times, won easily. I then had someone from Japan. It was my first fight against a non-European, and it was tough, but I managed to win a close bout. Over lunch, my coach talked to me about my next opponent, a guy from Italy I knew of but hadn't faced before. If I won, I'd be up against someone from Brazil or South Africa. It turned out to be the South African, and both fights were relatively straightforward, so I was still in the competition going into the second day. We all ate together that evening; of the twelve team GB entries, we had five left, including myself. The teammates that had lost were encouraging those of us remaining. I slept better that night than the previous one; now that we'd started, I had more confidence.

The first session of the following day was against a Korean. He turned out to be very good, and we had a very close fight, with me just beating him. The Quarterfinal was with a French guy. I'd beaten him before, which was heavily on his mind as he didn't fight as well as I knew he could. I never complain when someone fights below par against me, though! So, I was into the semi-final, one stage further than my minimum goal.

Over lunch, my coach again went over the next opponents; the first would be against an Argentinian who was the pre-event favourite; if I got through that, it would be either against a German or Chinese lad. We discussed tactics, and then I started the fight. I took a good early lead, but he constantly caught me with his kicks. I couldn't react to them in time, and he won. I congratulated him and returned to my team and coach, who consoled me. I didn't have long to mope as I was next against the Chinese lad, the loser of the other semi. I put my game face on; I didn't like losing (but then what competitor does!) and didn't want to go home empty-handed. We had a great fight, and I beat him by 3 points. Bronze medal! I was one very happy bunny.

We watched the final, and the Argentinian beat the German guy comfortably, so I took solace in losing only against the eventual winner. That evening, the team celebrated; we had two Golds, two Silvers and my Bronze to take home with us. We joked about whether a ticker-tape procession to Buckingham Palace would follow huge crowds waiting for us at Heathrow but decided we'd probably all get a cup of tea back at our parent's houses!

We had a day off before flying home so all took the opportunity to go and see the Pacific Ocean and have a swim. I was a good swimmer, and we had often, as a family, been to the Southwest coast of France, which has some strong waves, so I had no concerns. Some others weren't good swimmers, so we stayed near the marked lifeguard areas. The beach was busy with many families, and we had a great time.

I decided to test my Spanish out and chatted with the lifeguards. They asked where we were from, and I told them that we were from Great Britain and here for the Taekwondo Championships. They had heard about it on the local television, and I told them about my bronze medal. They told me about the city and what it was like to live in Mexico. Mexican Spanish was slightly different from the Spanish I was learning but was close enough for me to understand. When I couldn't, their English was pretty good anyway. They then told me about a fourteen-year-old girl who had died earlier that week after getting caught in a rip current and how the two lifeguards who had pulled her out were coping with that. That put a bit of a dampener on the conversation, and after, I said my goodbyes and went back to our group.

For some reason, our flight back was via Washington instead of Chicago, but we only had a two-hour wait before getting the connecting flight to Heathrow, so that was good. We arrived home, and all laughed that there were no crowds of well-wishers or an open-top bus trip to Buckingham Palace planned. It was just as well as it was properly chucking it down outside and pretty cold. My dad picked the car up from the overpriced car park, and we headed down the M3 towards Southampton and then home. My mum was waiting in the kitchen, and after a big hug and congratulations, I showed her my medal. I went upstairs to bed as I had college the next day and had already missed four days of lessons, so I would have a lot of catching up to do the following weekend.

I took my medal in to show Dafydd, Mr Oloru and a few friends who knew where I was going, and then it was back to the usual routine. Later that summer, the inaugural Youth Olympic Games were going to be held in Singapore, and I was determined to improve on my bronze medal; I also hoped to be able to represent Great Britain in judo. I decided to continue jujitsu as it was good for my suppleness, strength and general movement, although different from judo and taekwondo. I also started spending more of my limited free time on fitness, suppleness and moves on the weekends.

The year-end exams for year twelve went well, and we broke up for the summer holidays in mid-July. I received a letter from British Judo and British Taekwondo saying I had been picked to represent Great Britain in both. There would be a judo camp in the last week of July and a taekwondo camp in the first week of August before we flew to Singapore for the Youth Olympics from the 14^th to 26^th August. Both disciplines were towards the end of the event, but we would be there for the opening and closing ceremonies. The camps were in Bristol, and they had booked the same hotel and venue by some miracle of cross-code organisation. Bureaucracy wasn't usually well planned, so I was thankful I wouldn't have to travel between them.

I packed my bags, including two sets of kits, one for each discipline, and my dad took me to Southampton station, where I took the cross-country train to Bristol Temple Meads station. I went to the taxi rank and asked them to take me to the hotel. I registered and then settled into the room I was sharing with a guy from Edinburgh. We'd met previously and caught up before we went down to join the others for a meal. There was a mix of those attending the Youth Olympics and those showing promise for the future. I knew all the former, so I chatted to some newbies, trying to welcome them. After we'd eaten, we mingled for a short time before heading up to our rooms to make sure we were refreshed for the week ahead.

This first week was judo, and we split into those going to Singapore and the newbies. We were set on an intensive programme, honing and perfecting our skills and pairing up for simulated competition bouts. We also watched videos of opponents the coaches thought would likely be the biggest challengers, showing us moves they liked to make and advising how best to beat them. Each night, we returned to our rooms tired but also gaining confidence in our abilities. The week ended, and most people went home on the Saturday before those coming for the Taekwondo week arrived on Sunday.

I spent Saturday evening looking around some of the city centre; there were bars, clubs and several restaurants. As I was alone, I just watched all the comings and goings, never living in a city I hadn't spent much time amongst so many revellers, and it was a bit of an eye-opener. I started heading back to the hotel sometime after 11, keeping away from the drunks who were fighting. The police had a reasonably heavy presence, so I assumed fighting was common. There were also a surprising number of people, many girls, or I should probably call them young women, who were on the floor either being sick or too drunk to move and being helped by their almost equally drunk friends. At least, I hoped they were their friends. I couldn't understand why people had to drink so much to get in that state. It takes all sorts to make a world, I suppose.

I'd turned seventeen the previous June, so I wouldn't be able to buy a drink in a bar for another ten months, but I'd been having the odd larger with a meal at home for a few years. I'd once had a few more than I should have, and the feeling the next day put me off doing that again for life, and it was only a tiny hangover.

On Sunday, the taekwondo group met for a meal and socialised afterwards, just like the previous week. The format for the camp followed the same pattern, with the Youth Olympic participants training separately and more intensively. As the week drew on, I felt better about my chances in Singapore. The back-to-back camps helped me focus and peak in both disciplines.

The camp finished late on Friday afternoon as we'd be leaving in the middle of the following week for Singapore. As I would be catching a train home, I decided to leave mid-morning on Saturday, so I again decided to wander around the city centre. I went out on the same route, seeing the same behaviour and sights as the previous weekend. There was a football match earlier that evening, and surprisingly, Bristol City won, so there was a lot of celebrating. I decided to take a slightly different way back to avoid the worst of the pissheads, sorry, happily inebriated citizens of our fair country, and ended up going down a small street.

As I passed a dimly lit side street, I heard a muffled cry and glanced to my left. Further down the side street was a woman being held in a headlock by a big man who looked to have a knife. Her top had been ripped, and her hands were fastened behind her back. Three other men were zip-tying her feet together.

"Please, leave me alone!" she begged; she was slightly built with coffee-coloured skin. Her hair was long and black; she had a large swelling over one eye and a badly cut lip, but she was very pretty.

"Let go of her!" I shouted as I came down the street, checking to see if anyone else was there. The only other thing I could see was a van with the back doors open towards me. It looked like they were going to abduct her in the van after raping her here. I assumed they would then take her somewhere before doing the same again and then probably killing her. All their faces were visible, so I didn't think they'd let her go alive.

"You've just made a big mistake!" one of the closer ones said. "Or did you want a slice of the action as well? - Because you're right out of luck."

The three guys who had been restraining her feet started coming towards me; one pulled out a knife as he approached. The guy with the knife spoke to the big guy, who appeared to be their leader.

"I told you we shouldn't have gone for her; all the others we watched and planned so we wouldn't get caught. You're too eager to do another bitch."

He replied, "He's on his own. Take him down, and we can leave his body near the others. But make sure he suffers for interrupting our fun." He then stuffed a rag into the girl's mouth and carried her towards the back of the van.

"You should have stayed home with Mummy," the man with the knife said. "You know we can't let you go."

"I'm not going anywhere," I responded. "You four are all going to hospital and then jail." I took up a ready stance as they came closer.

"Think you're Jackie Chan, do you?" he continued. "You know how this will end, don't you!" They had split up, so the knife man was in front of me and the two others on either side.

"Yes, I've got a good idea how it will end up. You," I said, pointing to my left, "are going to get a few fractured ribs followed by a broken leg. You," I said, pointing to my right, "are also going to get some broken ribs but mixed with a broken arm, nose and probably concussion. And you," I said, pointing to the one in the middle, "are either going to piss yourself and run or come at me with that knife. I warn you, if you do the latter, I will make it worse than the other two."

"He's stalling," shouted the one still carrying the girl, "for fuck's sake, shut him up!"

Before they could move more than a fraction, I sprung to my left and delivered a roundhouse kick to his middle. He cried out, and I then followed by a further kick low on his left leg, and he went down screaming. I jumped to the right and blocked a punch he threw at me and did four quick hits to his ribs and arm, then an overhead kick to his face, and he collapsed unconscious. The guy in the middle was still walking towards me and stopped, looking surprised and then angry.

"You bastard!" he shouted and rushed me, swinging his knife wildly towards me; I dodged and grabbed his arm, twisted it until I heard it break. He screamed, and I let go and then delivered a kick to his other arm, breaking that as well. With that, I kicked him hard in his balls, and as he bent over, I did a roundhouse kick to his head, and he dropped like a fly. I estimated it had taken about 20 seconds, and I started to walk over to the remaining guy, who had reached the van with the girl.

"Come on then, big guy," I said. It looked like he spent time in the gym, unlike his fellow lowlifes and was mad as hell. His pupils looked dilated, and he had a crazed look, so I assumed he was also high on drugs.

The leader put the girl in the van and punched her in the face, and she went down, dazed. He looked confident and very pissed off as he came towards me. The girl stayed still, but I could see her looking pleadingly towards me.

The man lunged a few times at me with his knife, but I kept my distance; then, he rushed me and caught my arm with the knife, drawing blood. He grinned manically at me and lunged again; this time, I spun and hit the knife with my foot, sending it flying and impaling some refuse bins at the back of a building next to us. He clutched his hand briefly, obviously sore, but it didn't look broken. He came at me again and tried to get me into a hold, trying to use his size and strength. Unfortunately, he didn't know I was a judo blackbelt, so that didn't go as planned. I grabbed his arm, took him down, and got him into a hold with an arm bar. I pulled hard on his arm, twisting it slightly. He resisted and tried to get free, thrashing his legs around to get some leverage. I waited as he did this, and then, with an almighty jerk, I heard his arm pop out of the shoulder socket. I released him and backflipped to my feet. A dislocated arm is excruciating, and I hoped but didn't expect he would now submit.

"I'm going to kick your head in until there's nothing left to recognise," he snarled at me.

"That doesn't seem to be going very well for the four of you so far, does it?" I taunted back.

With a roar, he came at me again; I kept kicking his ribs, jumping back each time he came forward, and there was a satisfying crack each time my foot landed. I moved back further to see if he still had any fight left, and sure enough, he did. I expect he knew if he lost, all four faced a lengthy jail time. As he came at me once again, I jumped, spun and delivered a kick to the side of his head, and he dropped motionless to the ground. I looked around to ensure they would not get up and try anything else. One had managed to get to his knees and was coughing up blood, clutching his side.

"I suggest you don't move any further," I said. "You've probably got a broken rib, and if you move, it will puncture your lung, and you will die slowly, drowning in your own blood. It's a terrifying way to die." I didn't know or care if it was a lousy way to die, but I doubt it was pleasant. I just wanted him to stay there. He had a panicked look on his face and just nodded and then coughed up more blood.

I left them, hurried over, and went into the back of the van to the girl. I found another knife in the back and cut her restraints after removing the gag. I pulled my top off and told her to put it on, hers being little more than rags now. She did and then stood up and clung to me in floods of tears, crying hysterically.

"You're safe now; they can't hurt you anymore. It's over, it's all over." I spent a few minutes reassuring her, gently stroking her hair and back. I then told her I needed to call the police and ambulance. She eventually nodded, and I removed one arm from around her and got my phone out and dialled 999 explaining the situation and that we would need five ambulances and police for an attempted rape. I didn't know where we were, so I gave them directions from clubs and bars I'd recently passed in the street. We looked to be at the rear of one of them, and I could see a sign on the wall with their name on it, so I let them know that as well.

The good thing about being in the city centre is the police were there in a few minutes. We heard the sirens almost immediately, and a car came down the alley. Two male officers jumped out and surveyed the scene.

"I need a female officer to care for this lady," I told them. "She's still traumatised."

"What the hell happened to these four?" one of them said, looking around. The other officer was on his radio, giving an update and requesting a WPC as quickly as possible for the victim.