Page 14 of Angelic Vengeance

Growing up on the streets, I knew one of two things was happening: I was getting mugged or trafficked.

I’d heard horrific stories about corpses with missing organs found in dumpsters, and even seen some myself, wrapped in garbage bags.

Alarm bells rang in my head. While some might have freaked out, my survival instincts kicked in. This wasn’t the first time I was getting chased in the Bronx. I just had to make it to a more populated street and I’d be safe.

The loud stomping of footsteps came closer and for a moment I thought I was going to die. They were going to catch me and hurt me in ways I didn’t even want to think about…

But then, the stomping died down, and it began sounding further and further away. Did they get tired? Was I really that fucking fast? I mean Iwason the track team at school.

I continued sprinting through the streets of Southside Bronx, not believing my luck. I was only two blocks away from a main street. Happy tears began falling down my cheeks at the fact I’d gotten away. I was never going to stay out this late again. Fuck the money. I was going to get a job somewhere else.

As I turned a corner, I ran into something large; a man. Before I could back away, he brought a cloth to my mouth.

Everything went dark.

I woke to a wet warmth on my neck. My eyes shot open and fear paralyzed my body. Amanwas on top of me…Kissingmy neck…Touchingme…

Bile rose up my throat. I felt sick.

I was in a dimly lit room, frozen in terror. Grey, cement walls full of cracks and bullet holes. No door, just a curtain. Sun rays peeked through the cracks; dust floated in the air. There was nothing except for the dirty mattress I laid on. The room vibrated as faint moans echoed from outside.

Horror brought tears to my eyes. I’d been trafficked.

It took everything in me to keep my sobs inside. The man hadn’t noticed I’d woken up and I had no intention of changing that. All of my clothes were still on, which meant nothing had happened to me yet. If I panicked now, they would drug me again, and then there’d be no hope for me.

Anxiety clouded my brain. How was I going to fight off a grown man?

And then I remembered: all of my clothes were still on, meaning I was still strapped.

Thank you,God.

Slowly, I moved my hand down to my waistband and pulled out a small knife. Growing up on the streets, I always carried something on me. Without hesitation or remorse, I flicked the blade open and stabbed the man in the side of the neck.

His blood leaked on me. I fought the urge to vomit.

He died without a sound. I slowly rolled him off me to not gather attention.

Good riddance.

As I got up, another man walked in. He was wearing some sort of green uniform and was holding a machine gun. We stared at each other in shock. Me because I didn’t knowhow the fuckI was going to kill him, and him because I was a teenage girl covered in the blood of a trafficker he probably worked for.

If I did nothing, I was going to die anyway. So, without thinking, I did the first thing that came to mind: I jumped on him.

He tripped over something and fell on his back. I grabbed his gun but he flipped us over.

“Pequeña perra!”

We struggled against each other. I squeezed my hands on the gun, trying to take it from him.

Pop pop pop.

He collapsed on me as the bullets ripped through his chin and silenced the room. I gagged when his brains dripped out, pulling myself from underneath him. I had accidentally pressed the trigger. I was covered in two dead men’s blood.

The muffled moaning continued.

Did no one fucking hear that?

My gaze fell on the two corpses. Tears burned my eyes and fell down my cheeks. My chest shook violently with sobs but I stayed silent.

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