Page 63 of Drag You Down
“Thanks,” I say, though my voice sounds hollow.
“Anybody else you want me to try calling?” she asks. “Lots of people have their phones set to Do Not Disturb in the evenings. It probably didn’t even ring on their end.”
I shake my head. “I don’t have anyone else.” My mind strays to Gabriel, but I wouldn’t call him even if I had his number.
Would I?
After the way I’d bailed on him…
I don’t know.
He’d seemed so adamant about wanting to keep me, but I could’ve shaken him off.
I don’t know what to think about that possibility.
Do Iwanthim to chase me?
“That sucks.” The woman puts her phone back in her pocket and looks out over the river. “Guess I’m kind of the same. I wouldn’t be out here if I had people to call.”
I look at her again, frowning. “Is… something wrong?” I find myself asking before I can stop myself.
“Eh. Whatisn’twrong?” She smiles at me. “I’ve been homeless for about three months now. Got kicked out after my boyfriend found out I’d been raped. He accused me of cheating on him.” She laughs bitterly. “He said I must have led the other guy on. Of course, when I went to the cops to report the crime, they told me there was no proof anything happened. And that’s when the groping happened. Thanks for not making me call the cops.”
I stare at her, my brain having a difficult time parsing the words. “That’s horrible.” I can’t think of anything else to say, anything that would make this even remotely better.
I’m not sure if Father Zachariah would urge me to invite her to the compound to speak to him or if he’d consider her soul toostained to bother with, and the thought bothers me. No one is beyond redemption.
Even me? I’m suddenly not sure.
The woman takes another drag of her cigarette. “Yeah, it is.” She blows a ring of smoke out. “I read that some hotshot CFO disappeared. The guy who raped all those other women. And I keep wishing that would happen to my rapist, too. Due process? What a joke. The only people who benefit are rich white guys.”
Disappeared.
I’m suddenly very, very cold.
“Do you think he would’ve deserved it if he’d died?” I ask, my voice hoarse. “If someone had killed him?”
IfGabrielhad killed him.
She laughs. “That’d be divine justice, wouldn’t it? I mean, I should say I’m against murder or whatever, but I’m not going to cry if a rich asshole gets killed.”
Divine justice.
An angel in disguise.
I shiver, staring back out at the river below us. “Some people would think he deserved it,” I say. “I don’t know what to think.”
I don’t know why I said that. I don’t know why she’s confided in me, either. Maybe she sees me as a kindred spirit.
Maybe I am, fallen as I am now.
“I can’t tell you what to think,” the woman answers. “But I say: why waste your time worrying about that guy? There’s plenty more rich white douchebags where he came from. I hear they’ve got cloning facilities out in California where they churn them out.”
My head jerks up, and I stare at her. That… What? I realize she’s only joking, but it still threw me enough to where I fall silent for several moments.
If law enforcement doesn’t help the people of the city, who does? The world is corrupt, morally bankrupt, and even this stranger who doesn’t know God understands that.
“Okay. Well, if you’re sure you don’t know anyone else to call, I’m gonna find somewhere to hole up for the night.” The woman pushes away from the railing. “If you need a place too, the stairs over there, they lead under the bridge. It’s an okay spot, but lots of people sleep there so don’t flash any valuables around.”
