Jesus, it’s cold tonight,I think to myself, wrapping my bare arms across my chest for warmth.And of course, I left my jacket in the car.
Fuck, I think I’m lost.
I fish through my purse for my phone, and just as I’m about to pull up the navigation app, the sound of voices cuts through the silence.
Shit.Someone else is out here.
Chilling sounds of laughter echo in the wind and are swiftly followed by grunts of what I can only assume is pain.
Fuck.Someone’s in trouble.
This isn’t your problem.I think, trying to reason with myself.No one would judge you if you walked away right now.
I would judge me,I argue back,I would blame myself for not at least trying to help.
Deciding to follow my instincts, I follow the sounds and do everything I can to stay as hidden as possible.
Maybe it’s a couple of friends play fighting. Maybe it’s some drunk asshole laughing at his own stupidity. Maybe it’s nothing. All of my maybes go to shit when I round the corner and find a brutal scene playing out before me.
Four men, each one bigger than the last, are attacking someone on the ground. Their feet rise and fall in a sickening rhythm, and the man’s body rocks with every blow.
Jesus.They’re going to kill him.
My instincts scream at me to run, to get the hell out of here before they notice me. But with each crack of bone on bone, my resolve grows. I can’t just stand here and let them kill him. I won’t. No one deserves to have their life violently stolen from them like that. No one.
“Stop it!” I shout, the words tearing out of me before I can think better of them.
All four heads snap in my direction, and their eyes narrow like predators spotting prey.
The shortest of them laughs. “You lost, little girl?”
I scan my surroundings, taking in the four massive figures, the dim lighting, and the lack of any clear escape route.
Four against one. Not great odds in general, but especially shitty when the one has heeled boots on.Fuck.
Running isn’t an option. I have the pocket-knife Fallon got me hidden in my sock, but I’ve never even used it, and I know it won’t be enough to scare them off. My mind races.
“Look, I-I don't want any trouble.” I stutter, stepping back.
The biggest one, with a nasty scar across his cheek,advances. “Then you shouldn't have come looking for it, sweetheart.”
I take another step back, eyes darting to the man on the ground. His eyes are closed, but his chest is still moving up and down. Good, he’s still breathing. I silently will him to get up and run. But he just lies there.Shit.
“Stay back,” I warn, holding my phone up like a shield, “Or I swear to God, I’ll call the cops.”
“Oh no, guys,” the big one mocks, “guess we better leave her alone.”
The others laugh as they follow behind him. My stomach twists as their smug smiles widen. This is bad. This is really fucking bad.
The big one comes at me first, cornering me against the side of a building. He lunges for me and, without hesitation, I duck down, yank the pocket knife from my boot, and pop back up, slashing wildly.
The blade catches the side of his face and carves through his skin in a jagged slice. The wet sound he makes as his hands fly up to his bleeding face makes my stomach churn.
Shock ripples through his friends, and their laughter dies immediately. Then, without warning, they attack.
The man closest to him tries to grab me, but I twist out of his hold and use my shoulder to slam into his chest, hard. He stumbles back a step, more caught off guard than hurt, but it’s enough to give me a second to prepare myself.
Another man comes for me, faster than the other two, and I wildly swing the knife in his direction. He pulls back just in time, leaving the blade to slice the air where his stomach had been a second ago.
