Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24566 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24566 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
I pull my cardigan closer against the evening chill and glance down at my phone again. According to the map, my ride should be parked just at the end of this street to the right. I pass a dumpster on my left and pick up the pace as the scent of rank trash and rotting food enters my nostrils, and that’s when I hear it.
The sound of footsteps rapidly approaching behind me.
I turn just in time to see the fist coming at me like a meteor out of the darkness.
I try to duck or move or throw myself out of the way, but I can’t. All I feel next is the pain in my face, and I’m stumbling backward over the cobblestones.
One of my heels snaps off my shoe, and I fall and land heavily on my back, knocking all the air from my lungs. Gasping, I look up at the dark night sky and see a blurry face come into view, looming over me like a monster licking his lips.
“You’ll say good night, huh?” Brian asks, standing over me like the conquering general of another country. His eyes are flaming, filled with anger as he looks down at me like a hungry animal. In a flash, he’s seated on my chest, pinning me down with all his bodyweight. “I think I’ll decide when you say good night, bitch!”
With a single stroke of his arm, he tears the front from my dress. I’m not wearing a bra beneath, so my breasts are completely exposed to him, and his face lights up as he drinks them in like the vicious pervert he is.
I fight to cover myself, screaming out for help, but he silences me instantly with a backhand to the lips.
I taste blood.
“Shut up,” he growls, leaning in so close I can smell the stink of his sweat. “Unless you want me to go harder on you.”
He reaches down and begins to unbuckle his pants.
“Or maybe you like it like that?” he suggests.
Panic floods through me, accompanied by a wave of adrenaline.
This can’t really be happening, can it?
“Hey!” A voice rings out from behind me, and I crane my neck back to look, and although my view is upside down, I’m able to see a group of four old guys staring at us. The one in front raises his arm at Brian. “Get your fucking hands off her, pal!”
Brian leaps off me and instantly starts running back in the direction of the restaurant. The four guys give chase best they can, but there’s no way they’re going to catch him. They’re well into their 60s. One of them stops when he reaches me and immediately throws his jacket over me, covering me up.
“Hey, are you okay?” he asks, sounding a lot more tender than he looks. “What did he do to you? Did he–?”
“No, no.” I shake my head, slumping forward into his arms. “You guys showed up just in time. I’m all right.”
“Looks like he hit you a couple of times…son of a bitch…” he grumbles to himself. “You don’t have to stay with a guy who hits you, sweetheart.”
I almost laugh. “Trust me, I never would. But he’s not my boyfriend. Just a bad date that went off the rails.”
“You need to file a police report.”
I sigh and shake my head. “Maybe later. I’ve got an Uber waiting to take me home. I just want to get back and shower and go to bed.”
I can see by the way the man’s looking at me that he disapproves, but he nods anyway and walks with me to the end of the alley and puts his number in my phone.
“My name’s Greg. You need me to testify or make a statement, or you need anything at all, you call.”
“Thank you, Greg. And tell your friends thanks as well.”
I give this man I’ve only just met a hug and hop into my Uber, apologizing to the driver for making them wait for me for so long. I skip the story on telling them why or what happened, but I can see the man driving has noticed my broken heel and my torn dress under my cardigan, but he doesn’t say anything as he takes me back to the dorm. Probably just thinks I’m another crazy party girl out on another crazy drunken night. But I don’t care. I just want to get home and put all this behind me.
Riley is on the couch when I get back. Her attitude instantly shifts from playful and ready to girl-talk to concerned and ready to mom-mode when she sees the state of me.
“Oh my God, Nina, what the fuck happened to you?” she asks, immediately leaping up from the couch and going to the freezer for ice.
I slump down in my favorite comfy chair as she wraps up some cubes in a dish towel and brings them over to me, her eyes filled with concern.