Page 35 of Through My Window
The third man emerges from the shadows. He has a cigarette clamped between his teeth and a scar on his face. “It’s in her pocket, hold her.”
No, don’t touch me!
I scream, but the sound is muted by the hands of the man holding me. The one with the scar approaches me and puts his hand in the pocket of my pants, licking his lips. I want to vomit.
Please help me.
He pulls out my phone and examines it. “Nice, and it looks as good as new, it’ll be a good gift for your daughter.” He passes it to the other man, but his disturbing eyes never leave my face. “You’re very pretty.”
“Shall we let her go? We already have the phone,” asks the one holding me.
“Yeah, John, that’s enough.”
John looks at me and his eyes lower to my body.
No, please don’t.
The one holding me lets me go, but John grabs me and pulls me backward toward him, covering my mouth again. I can’t breathe properly, and I can’t move.
Help!
“John, she’s probably my daughter’s age.”
“Shut up, assholes!” His shout echoes in my ear. “Get out of here.”
“But . . .”
“Get out of here!”
The two men exchange glances, and I plead with them with my eyes, but they leave.
No. God, please don’t.
John drags me under the bridge, and I start kicking and fighting desperately. He grabs me by the hair and turns me toward him. “Cooperate, I don’t want to hurt you more than necessary. But if you scream, it’s going to go real bad for you, pretty girl.”
As soon as he releases my mouth, I scream. “Help me! Please—”
He hits me. I didn’t even see him raise his hand. I only feel the strong impact on my right cheek. I’ve never been hit before; I’ve never felt such strong, sudden pain. It throws me off balance and sends me to the ground. Everything spins, and my right ear throbs. I can taste blood in my mouth.
“Is anyone there?” I hear a voice from the bridge above, and it sounds like God. “What’s going on?”
John panics and runs away, and I crawl to sit up. “Help! Down here!” My voice sounds weak. The whole right side of my face throbs.
“Oh God!” It’s a man’s voice. In a few seconds that feel like an eternity, he appears in front of me. “Oh my God, are you okay?”
I can’t talk, I have a lump in my throat. I just want to go home. I just want to be safe. He kneels in front of me.
“God, are you all right?”
I manage to nod my head.
“Should I call the police? Can you walk?”
With his help, I get up, and we move away from that hellish darkness.
Mom . . .
House.
