CHAPTER 6

"I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"

The next morning, Tory and Robby sat on the edge of Tory's bed, and she apologized profusely as Robby held up an ice pack to his face. He had been soundly sleeping that morning when all of a sudden, he had been rudely awakened by a punch to the face. Or rather, one of Tory's thrashing limbs had clobbered him on the cheek, as she remained trapped in yet another nightmare. The contact with Robby's face had been what managed to wake Tory up, and just in time too, as she saw a bruise and swelling already beginning to form under his left eye.

"I'm fine. Don't worry about it." Robby murmured, wincing slightly as he pressed the ice to his cheek. He wasn't angry at her at all for it. It wasn't her fault that she was stuck having these night terrors, and he knew she obviously didn't mean to hit him. He was more concerned and alarmed than anything else. The accidental hit was just another clear warning that something wasn't right with her at all. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay." Tory responded. Robby sighed and bit back his annoyance at his girlfriend's stubbornness. He put down the ice pack for a moment and stared her right in the eye.

"Are we just not going to talk about this?" Robby asked in a slightly harsh tone.

"Huh?" Tory grunted, taken aback.

"Tory, you are not okay." Robby stated bluntly. "I know you say you are, but you're not. Anybody who has to go through that every time they fall asleep cannot possibly be considered okay!"

"So… what? You think I'm crazy?!" She snapped at him. "Just like everyone else does?!"

"Stop." Robby scowled at her and shook his head. "You always do this. Don't twist my words to give yourself a way out of this conversation!"

"I'm not…" Tory started to defend herself, but the look on Robby's face showed that he wasn't having any of it.

"Don't. You do this all the time, Tory!" Robby shot back. He realized how heated he was getting and how harsh his tone was becoming, and he paused for a moment, channeling every fiber of Miyagi-Do training in him to help him calm down. He knew that if the two of them continued to yell at each other, they wouldn't get anywhere. He sighed, allowing all of his frustration to leave his body. "Look, Tory, I'm only trying to help you."

"And I'm telling you, I don't need help!" Tory shouted. Robby threw his hands in the air, knowing a lost battle when he saw one.

"Fine. You don't want to talk? I can't force you." Robby said, standing up and walking out of the room, heading for the front door. "Sweet dreams."

Immediately, Robby regretted letting his anger get the better of him and letting the last cynical remark slip. It was too late though. Tory slammed the door behind him as hard as she could, leaving Robby standing on the front porch. He put his head in his hands. Something was definitely not right with Tory. They had done something, Cobra Kai had. He didn't know what, and he didn't know when; all he knew was that the ballooning swelling on her hand from a 'training accident' was not the worst injury she had right now. He needed to help her, but he honestly had no idea how.

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"Come on. Please, help me out here, man. I really don't know what to do."

Robby had just finished telling the story to Miguel as the pair warmed up at the Miyagi-Do dojo, trying to get some advice. The dojo was mostly empty, as the two of them were the first to arrive for training that day. Both were just as determined as the other to win the Sekai Taikai, more driven and focused than anyone else in the dojo, so it wasn't surprising that the pair arrived earlier than anyone else to get some extra training in.

"Sorry, man. I wish I knew how to help but I don't know either." Miguel replied.

"Seriously? Nothing?" Robby's shoulders sunk a little in disappointment. He knew that Miguel was his best chance at getting some good advice. If he went to any of the adults, he knew that they would overreact and Tory would take it as a huge betrayal of trust and would instead talk even less. Not only this, but Miguel was a former Cobra Kai himself, a former Cobra Kai who had been through a traumatic event while fighting for the dojo.

Miguel shrugged.

"I don't know what to say, man. I never had PTSD like that." He replied.

"Not even after the school fight? Come on, there must've been something after you woke up." Robby implored him. Miguel shook his head.

"Not really. When I woke up, I was… I was just happy to be alive to be honest. And then I was so focused on trying to walk again that I didn't really focus on anything else."

Robby's eyes flickered downwards to stare at his feet, and for a moment, he couldn't look Miguel in the eye. Familiar embarrassment and guilt about what he had done rushed through him.

"I'm sorry again for that." Robby mumbled.

"The past is the past." Miguel quickly responded. "Besides, it wasn't totally your fault, was it? We all have a fair share of blame for what happened."

Robby slowly nodded and looked back up at Miguel, just in time for Miguel's face to lit up as he had an epiphany.

"You know I do think there's someone who might be able to help you though." Miguel murmured. "Sam went through similar to what you're describing. I don't know for sure because I wasn't around at the time but from what I heard, she had trouble sleeping as she kept dreaming that she was being attacked by Tory."

Robby nodded thoughtfully, before chuckling.

"Yeah, somehow I don't think Tory's gonna appreciate her bitter rival giving her advice about it." He remarked. He had a point. Although there was no active fighting anymore, things were still pretty frosty in the dojo. The dojo had pretty much split into three groups at this point: Tory and Devon - the new Miyagi-Do students - were one; Sam, Hawk and the all-in Miyagi-Do students were another; and it was Miguel and Robby who were stuck playing peacemakers in the middle. It was visually represented too every time the dojo all lined up for class. One group was on one side, the other group on the other, with Miguel and Robby often standing directly in between them to try and prevent any tempers from flaring.

"Yeah, I don't know if Sam's gonna be too keen to help her either. She's still really pissed about everything." Miguel admitted. It was true. Sam and Tory might not have been fighting anymore, but that didn't mean Sam had forgotten about everything Tory had put her and her family through, starting with the school fight and culminating in not coming forward about the tournament being rigged.

"Right. So what do we do?" Robby asked. "What can we do?"

"I don't know." Miguel sighed. "I guess we can always ask Sam. Worst thing she says is no."

"Ask me what?" All of a sudden, a voice suddenly came from behind them, and Miguel and Robby both turned around to see Sam walking into the dojo.

"Oh, um… hey, Sam." Miguel stammered, kissing his girlfriend as she walked over to them.

"Hey." She smiled at him, before turning to both Robby and Miguel. "So… ask me what?"

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DING! DONG!

Marcos nearly lept out of his skin in shock as his finger pressed against the doorbell and a piercing ringing echoed through the house before him. He honestly had no idea how he had made it here. Before he had left Brazil, he had applied for a couple of part-time jobs in L.A to try and earn himself some money and of the tens that he applied for, only 1 was stupid enough to accept his application and eventually offer him the job. Only 1 job was so blind that they didn't realize the blatant lies he had written on his resume, and how the entire thing sounded like it had been auto-written by a computer. Because in a way, it had been. Marcos wrote his CV in Portuguese, and then translated it all in English, not having the English skills to be able to proofread and correct the mistakes that Google Translate often left behind. Upon reading the resume, which contained so many insane lies that it was basically electronic toilet paper at this point, most of the jobs declined him apart from one: working as a Portuguese tutor. It was just about the only job he was possibly qualified for. His mom had been a teacher, and he had taught his friends in Brazil a little in how to speak English, so at least he had somewhat experience in the field.

Marcos' first job as a tutor was that morning, and he found himself being dropped off in front of one of the largest, most extravagant houses in the city. It was definitely something that could've been found in Rio's very richest neighborhoods, and not somewhere Marcos had ever been inside. The neighborhood was named "Bel Air", and shockingly, Marcos had even heard of it. Fresh Prince of Bel Air and other TV shows alike were a large way that Marcos had gained a basic level of English speaking. He could tell just how wealthy the people in this neighborhood were, so he prayed that he didn't screw up. If he did a great job, surely a family with this amount of money would pay well, and maybe even recommend him to the other families in the neighborhood. But likewise, he knew that if he did badly, this would be his first and only tutoring job with this company.

The door swung open a few seconds later, and a middle-aged man stood in the doorway. As Marcos stared him up and down, he saw that this man was the epitome of the 'rich white man'. His hair balding and his skin pale, he wore khaki pants and a pink polo shirt, with a sweater tied around his neck. He looked like he had just returned from a round of golf.

"Hi, my name is Henry Gledhill." The man introduced himself in VERY broken and exaggerated Portuguese, clearly having just listened to the phrase on google translate and tried his best to imitate it.

"Don't worry, sir. I speak English." Marcos told him, trying his best to hold back a laugh. The man chuckled.

"Ah, thank Goodness! You must be the tutor. It's a pleasure to meet you." Henry Gledhill said, extending a hand that Marcos promptly shook.

"Nice to meet you too." Marcos replied. "So is it you that I'm tutoring? I'd be happy to get started."

Henry laughed.

"No, no, no. It's not for me. It's for my daughter, Sarah." He replied. "She's going into her senior year this year so is going to be applying for college, and it's a known fact that the Ivy Leagues love it when you know a foreign language."

Marcos nodded, though he internally groaned. Oh, brother. He knew exactly what type of person he was about to be tutoring, and he hadn't even met her yet. This was bound to be some spoiled, privileged preppy kid who had no interest in truly understanding the language, but expected him to miraculously pull off a miracle overnight and make her fluent.

"Sounds good. Is she here?" Marcos asked. Henry nodded.

"She should be in here. You can go get her if you want. She's probably upstairs in her room. It's the third door on the right."

Marcos bit back a retort. Of course this guy was going to treat him like a butler, as if it was his job to go upstairs and fetch his daughters. He didn't complain though. As long as this guy paid a hefty tip, Marcos was all for it. He walked upstairs, taking in the incredible house he was standing in. A chandelier delicately hung from the stairwell ceiling. Every floor was blanketed with rich, silk carpeting. Paintings and other expensive artifacts adorned almost every wall and room.

He made it to the top of the stairs and counted… 1 room… 2 rooms… Here. Third room on the right, just like Mr. Gledhill had said. The door was closed, so Marcos knocked twice with no answer, before he slowly opened the door and walked inside…