by C. C. Snow
Over this past semester, Josh’s behavior has made many of the female students feel uncomfortable, but since he hasn’t violated any rules, we can’t report him to the authorities. Being overfriendly isn’t a crime, after all.
I start to walk toward my favorite late night café, suddenly craving a shot of caffeine. The little French bakery is packed and there is no place to sit. With a large cup of coffee in hand, I decide to wander around the area and let myself enjoy the night.
This is my favorite time of the day, the hour right before the clubs and bars come to life. I like to picture men and women, hyped up on anticipation and excitement, getting ready to go out on a Saturday night. Then, dressed in their sexiest outfits, they spill into the streets and the frenetic energy of the city spikes. As they walk by, laughing and chattering, I enjoy making up stories about them in my head.
But tonight nothing seems to be able to distract me from thoughts of Sean. For the last few weeks, I have done everything to try to put the kiss behind me, but one phone call has unraveled all of my progress. His mixed signals send my emotions seesawing from one extreme to another. One second, my heart soars with hope at the jealousy in his voice when he asks about Cory and the next, it plunges with disappointment when he can’t articulate why he’s interested in my love life.
Damn the man.
Scowling in frustration, I dump my cold coffee into the trash and turn around to head back to the dorm. I halt at the next corner. If I walk straight ahead, I will have to backtrack half a block, but if I make a turn, I can reach the back entrance of my dorm. Staring into the narrow street, I bite my lip in hesitation.
Shaking off the trepidation snaking down my spine, I throw back my shoulders and stride confidently down the empty street. Being in the dark has never bothered me before, but I feel a chill crawl through my body as I stare at the sinuous dark shapes cast by the buildings. Despite my calming breaths, I feel my pulse hammering at the base of my throat and my palms getting sweaty.
“It’s all in your head, Maggie,” I tell myself and tug my zipper higher on my jacket. Defiantly, I continue to walk, refusing to let irrational fear drive my actions. Halfway down the block, I grimace at my own stupidity.
“Damn it,” I mutter, knowing I’m freaking myself out, but I swing on my heels to go back the way I came. I stop in my tracks when I hear a muffled noise from a gap between two of the buildings. I squint, trying to see if there’s anyone there, but it’s too dark. Just as I think it’s my imagination, a rustling reaches my ears. This time it’s too loud to dismiss and it doesn’t sound like a newspaper blowing in the wind.
Even as I’m telling myself to scream, I can’t get my throat to work. I stick my hand into my pocket, frantically looking for my pepper spray, but I realize I didn’t bring it. I only have my phone and my keys with me.
Shit! Heart thumping, I slither closer to the recess, straining my eyes to see something.
There. I gasp when I see a large shadowy shape looming over someone on the ground. Legs are kicking in struggle and I hear a smothered sob. There is no doubt that it’s a woman.
When I see her thrash wildly, I act on instinct. I don’t realize I’m moving until I am running full tilt. In one motion, I clasp my hands together and swing my fists onto the perpetrator’s back. He releases a low grunt at the impact, but my blow doesn’t seem to have any other visible effect.
“Stop! Stop it!” I scream, hitting him again and kicking out with my legs. “The cops are on their way!” I lie while cursing myself for not calling 911 before I decided to play Batgirl.
When the man smacks the victim’s head against the ground and turns to lunge at me, I comprehend how stupid I am. With a hoarse cry for help, I turn to run, but he yanks on my jacket and drags me against him, banding his arm around my middle. He slaps a hand over my mouth and the lower part of my nose before I can scream again.
“Stuck-up bitch,” he spits venomously. There is something about his voice that nags at my memory, but I’m too scared to think clearly.
Terror pumps through my veins. The smell of stale sweat and desperation permeates the air. I buck and twist, trying to free myself, but he is strong. So strong. My arms are pinned at my sides and I try to kick him, but the angle is too awkward to do any damage. I sob, but no sound can escape the tight seal he has on my mouth. Tears seep from my eyes as he drags me into the deep shadows.
I fight harder, knowing my time is limited, but he is cutting off my oxygen supply and I can already feel myself weakening.
No! NO! I scream inside my head as I feel my world tilt.
He is turning his body to get me to lie down. At the corner of my eye, I see the unconscious body of the first victim. Please don’t be dead, I pray and I fight harder. I forcefully bring my knee up, hoping to hit something and I make contact with a part of his body. He grunts and his hands loosen for a second.
Pushing his hand violently away, I suck in air, taking in the smell of garbage and alcohol, and scream, “Help” in an inhuman shriek and start to scrabble away. Just when I think my feet have purchase to make a run for it, a vicious hand grabs my hair.
“Ahhh!” Keening in pain, my head bends backwards. I manage one more cry for help before his hand slaps over my mouth and nose again, cutting off all sounds. Despair fills me when he roughly knocks my feet from under me, making me drop like a rag doll. Even when I put out my hands to break my fall, I land hard on my side. Dazed, I whimper as stabs of pain travel from my hip and shoulder to my brain. The taste of iron fills my mouth.
A sibilant whisper sounds in my ear. “Think you can ignore me, you little redheaded bitch?”
I furrow my brow, trying to process what he’s saying, but my whole body is in agony and fear is clouding everything. I know I have to continue to fight, but my strength is flagging and his lower body pins me down.
To my horror and disgust, I feel his arousal stabbing into my thigh. Nausea rises in me.
No. No. No. I will not go down until I have nothing left in me.
Jabbing my elbow backwards, I hit his side, but that only enrages him and he twists my arm so hard, I feel like it’s going to pull out of my socket. Tears are streaming so copiously from my eyes, everything is swimming. He thrusts his crotch against me and my stomach heaves in revulsion. I writhe, but that only seems to excite him more and I wail in helplessness.
My blood roars in my ears, drowning out everything. He’s heavy and I can’t move under him. I try to breath rapidly through my nose, but there is not enough oxygen seeping in between the cracks of his fingers. The edges of my vision start to dim.
Fight, Maggie! If you pass out, he’d—
Refusing to finish the abhorrent thought, I gather the last shreds of my energy and buck against him with all my might. His grip over my face tightens, cutting off the little air I could inhale and my limbs grow weaker with every second.
Then abruptly all the pressure is gone. My mouth gulps in air, feeding starved cells. It takes a few seconds for my body to process that I’m free.
Move, Maggie! Move!
I grit my teeth against the pain and push up from the floor, letting out a little sob. My arms are shaking so hard, I almost do a face-plant, but I stiffen my muscles. Behind me I hear the sounds of flesh hitting flesh, low vicious curses, and scuffling. I look over my shoulder and there are two shapes grappling with each other.
I blink to clear my vision as I pull my legs under me in preparation to run for help when one of the men breaks away and rockets down the street, while the other gives chase.
“Call 911!” shouts my rescuer over his shoulder.
Loud curses and thundering footsteps recede into the distance.
Fumbling in my pocket, I take out my phone, but it takes me a few tries before I can punch in my password and make the call. I sound incoherent and hysterical, but the dispatcher seems to understand me and promises to send help.
As soon as I hang up the phone, I remember the other woman and I stand up on unsteady f
eet. I rush to the recess as fast as I can on and lower myself to my knees. Up close, I can make out her features and I gasp, “Hannah.” It’s impossible to see her injuries in the dark, but I smell blood. Fingers shaking, I touch the side of her neck and slump in relief when I detect a reedy pulse.
“Please be okay. Please be okay,” I whisper fervently.
I jerk around in alarm and scream when I hear approaching footsteps. My blood pressure shoots up, making me feel light-headed. I skitter away on my hands until I encounter a wall.
“It’s okay. I’m NYPD.” A gentle voice comes out of the dark.
At the sound of the familiar timbre, I start shaking uncontrollably. “Sean?”
“Jesus! Is that you, Mags?” The rhythm of his steps increases and then he’s kneeling next to me.
Recognizing his scent and silhouette, I throw myself into his arms and my trembling gets worse until my teeth are chattering.
“Mags, angel, are you okay? Where are you hurt?” Sean asks urgently to me, his arms warm and secure around me.
Fighting the fuzziness in my brain, I try to catalog my injuries. My left hip and shoulders are throbbing, but I don’t think I’ve broken anything. I answer in a wavering voice, “I think I’m okay. I’m just sore.”
He crushes me against him, pressing my face into his chest and kissing the top of my head. “Thank God!”
For long moments, I revel in how safe he makes me feel, but my conscience prods me. “Hannah…” I gasp and turn to look at her still figure.
He must have noticed her for the first time because he swears and lets go of me. “Stay here.” He moves over to her prone body and tries to assess her injuries.
I crawl over to them. “I think she has a head wound. We can’t risk moving her.” I cringe, remembering the sound of her skull hitting the pavement.
“Damn it, woman, didn’t I tell you to stay put?” He mutters angrily. When I ignore him, he sighs, “Did you call 911?”
“Yes.” Remembering the chase, I ask, “Did you catch…?”
“No!” There’s a world of impotent rage in his voice. “Fucker got away. Lost him in the subway.”
Thinking about the attacker running free in the city sends ice through my veins. What if he attacks someone else?
Just then the welcome sounds of sirens reaches us and grows louder with each passing second. Within seconds, the area is lit by flashing lights and surrounded by uniformed professionals. I close my eyes against the brightness and I jolt in fear when someone touches my arm.
“I’m sorry for startling you, ma’am.”
I open my eyes to see an African American woman in an EMT uniform regarding me with kind eyes. Her voice gentles. “I need to examine you to make sure you’re okay.”
“My friend…” I turn to look at Hannah, but she’s surrounded by other first responders. They already have a gurney standing at the ready.
“It’s alright. My colleagues are going to take care of your friend.” She helps me to my feet and I have to clutch onto her to steady myself.
Tears start filling my eyes again. “She…he…” A wail emits from my lips.
Then strong arms pull me against a hard chest and the wonderful, familiar scent of pine enfolds me. “Sh…I’m here. It’s okay, Maggie angel. I’m here.”
At his soft words, everything crashes in on me and I start weeping and shaking uncontrollably, clinging onto his jacket. I want to burrow into Sean’s skin until I disappear. His body is tense with fury, but he holds me gently, his fingers petting my hair. I can’t hear anything he’s saying, but his deep, soothing voice comforts me on the deepest, most primal level. He presses his cheek against my head. “Shh…it’s all okay now, angel.”
My tremors slowly subside, but I stay in his arms, needing his warmth.
“Maggie, let’s have you checked out, okay?”
I shake my head, reluctant to leave my safe haven.
As if he read my mind, Sean murmurs, “I’ll be with you the whole time, but this nice lady needs to make sure you’re okay. Come on. Let’s have…” He leans over to look at the EMT’s nametag. “Tanya check out your injuries.”
He guides me over to the back of an ambulance with Tanya following close behind. And as promised, he stays by my side as the EMT checks my vitals and asks me questions. She gently cleans the minor scrapes on my hands and cheek and I flinch despite her gentleness. Sean’s face tightens and I squeeze his hand to let him know I’m okay. When she applies the antibiotic cream and bandages my hands, I make sure I stay motionless.
She asks me to show her where else I’m hurt and I point to my shoulder and my hips, saying, “I fell on this side.” I point to my other shoulder. “He twisted my arm and this shoulder is a bit sore.” I lift my hand to touch the back of my head. “And he pulled my hair, but other than a few bald patches, I don’t think there’s lasting damage.”
Sean’s body is drawn so tight, I’m afraid he will snap in half and there is a murderous expression on his face.
Tanya finishes her exam and says, “I don’t see anything serious, but we need to do some tests at the hospital to be sure.”
A barrel-chested man in a NYPD uniform walks up to me and says, “Ma’am, I’m Officer Jeffrey Cox. Are you able to give a statement about what happened tonight?”
I look at Sean and he says with an implacable note in his voice, “She needs to go to the hospital. I’ll bring her in to the station tomorrow to give a full statement. I was the first one on the scene.” He takes out his wallet and flashes a badge at the officer. “The perp is at least five ten, maybe one-sixty to one-eighty, wearing dark clothes.” He scrubs his face in frustration. “I know that’s nothing to go on, but it was too fucking dark and I couldn’t make out his face.” He looks at me. “Do you remember any distinguishing features?”
Brow furrowing, I try to sift through my murky recollection of tonight and shake my head regretfully. “No. It happened so fast and he was at my back.” I hug myself, feeling phantom arms shackling me.
“I’m sorry about this happened to you ma’am. If you remember anything, please call me.” He hands me a card which Sean pockets. “Take care, ma’am.” The officer nods and walks away.
Sean asks, “Maggie, do you want to go in the ambulance and I’ll meet you at the hospital?”
I shake my head and clasp his hand. “I don’t need to go to the hospital.” I roll my shoulders and wince. “I’m sore, but since there’s nothing broken, they can’t do anything for me except give me painkillers.”
“Maggie—” he starts warningly.
Now that I’m able to think clearly again, I know I don’t need medical attention. “Please, Sean. I don’t want to spend hours waiting to take tests I don’t need.” When he looks like he’s going to argue with me, I add, “I know my own body. I’m fine.”
Sean turns his gaze to Tanya. “You’re sure she’s okay?”
“Sir, I can’t tell you that. All I see are scrapes and bruises, but I always recommend doing a thorough examination at the hospital.”
At the thought of waiting around to see a doctor for a few minor scratches, I shake my head. “No, I don’t want to go.” I don’t care if I sound like a recalcitrant child, but I’m not budging.
He takes one look at my face and sighs heavily. “Maggie, I’d feel better if you get checked out.”
“No.”
He swears, his fingers running roughly through his hair. “You obstinate, little…” I can’t hear the rest of his sentence, but from the way he’s grinding his teeth, it’s not flattering.
“Thank you for helping me, Tanya.” I get to my feet, signaling my final decision. Sean’s hand is immediately at my back, steadying me.
“If you feel anything unusual—”
“I will,” I promise, cutting her off before she alarms Sean with dire warnings. He already looks apoplectic.
“Take care, ma’am,” Tanya says and starts to pack away the supplies.
I notice that the scene has
cleared out. A couple of police officers remain, one of them taking photos of the spot where Hannah laid. At the sight of the large bloodstain, a shiver runs through my body. I lean against Sean, feeling weak in the knees.
Abruptly he swings me into his arms.
“Sean,” I gasp. “What are you doing?”
“I’m taking you to my car. You’re not staying by yourself tonight.”
The idea of staying alone in my dorm room is repugnant and I’m grateful he thought of it.
“I can walk,” I protest but his arms tighten and he lowers his face. There’s a look of helpless rage on his face.
“Don’t.” He doesn’t say anything else, but that one syllable, spoken in a hoarse tone, silences me. I rest my head against his chest and listen to his strong heartbeat as he strides purposefully down the street.
Chapter Thirteen
Sean
Seeing her pale, tear-streaked face, I wish I had ended the fucker who dared touch her.
Her weight is so slight, it’s unimaginable that she fought him off. Even with my training, I couldn’t subdue the bastard. He had a wiry strength that had been surprising for someone who weighed at least thirty pounds less than I did and it was his smaller build that allowed him to slither out of my grasp.
Every time I think about what he could have done to her, I want to throw up. Then I want to tear the sick pervert apart. If I only had my gun with me, I would have taken justice into my own hands.
Picturing the fucker seeking out another victim, I fight to keep my rage contained, not wanting to add to her stress. My strides lengthen.
“Wait, why are you here? How did you find me?” Her voice is scratchy from screaming and crying.
“After you hung up, I had to come see you in person.” I sat on my ass for far too long before I decided to take action. Had I decided not to give in to my gut instincts—
Refusing to complete the thought, I tighten my arms around her. Her goodbye had sounded so sad and final that panic flashed through me. With images of her entwined with frat boy whirling in my head, I finally rushed out of my apartment. “As I was walking from the car to the dorm, I heard a cry for help.”
