The Cupid Touch

The Cupid Touch Chapter 16 - The Fear at My Back

I don't know to this day whether running was the stupidest thing I'd done in days, or the most sensible. That part of Chelsea was not a good area to be alone in late at night. I could feel it as I got out there onto the street. There were cars pulled up against the sidewalk with conversations happening in and around them, and as I ran past the first one, a young guy in leathers and converse gave me a long, level stare. 

I realised that I was drawing more attention to myself by running. I slowed down, after a glance behind me showed that Joe-Moe wasn't running after me. Not yet, at least. I knew the bridge back over to Boston was somewhere in this direction. I just had to walk.

I tried to breathe, and to look casual, like I was always out here late at night. But I found myself death-gripping my shoulder-bag, and flinching every time there was a sound. 

When I heard hurrying footsteps behind me a short while later, fear coursed through me. I glanced behind me, and saw not Joe-Moe but a teenager, hooded and stony-eyed. He flicked his eyes to the ground and I sped up.

Just ahead of me, a car slid past and then slowed and started to pull in. The window came down and a guy leaned out of the passenger window, his eyes hazy and a half-smile on his face . I sped up again as he called out, "What you doing, lady?"

I ignored him, but the car started to move with me as I drew level, matching my pace. 

"Why aren't you dressed up?" he asked, and a girl leaned out of the back to laugh. 

"You dress like my Mom," she said, and I glanced at her inches-thick make-up and her curled lip and I started feeling pissed off. They were just bored, and had seen someone looking vulnerable. I couldn't understand that decision to make someone else's life harder for no good reason. 

"Want to take some fashion advice from her?" I snapped back, and then smiled, as I kept hurrying.

"No, I don't," she said, and then was cut across, by the guy in the passenger seat saying, "You should be ashamed of yourself, you look awful."

"Awww, you are just the cutest," I told him, wondering how long I was going to have to put up with this. Though at least they might make it less likely that the guy behind me tried to rob me. I glanced over my shoulder, and he was pretty close behind.

The car sped up slightly, but instead of overtaking, the driver pulled it into a driveway ahead of me and blocked my way. A little bit of fear came back. Maybe the guy behind was part of this, and I had nowhere to go.

I started trying to step round the back of the car, but the guy reversed and I had to stop for fear of being run down.

"We're trying to give you some help," the passenger said. "You should be grateful."

I heard a few jogging footsteps and flinched.

"Hey," the teenager said. "Leave the lady alone."

Very gently, he took my arm and walked around the back of the car. They made no move, apparently outnumbered by two. Until we were right behind them, that is.

If I hadn't jumped forwards, I would have been hit. There was no question. The kid had to stop me falling, because I'd lunged so fast. 

The car screamed backwards into the road, and the driver shouted "Ugly bitch!" at me, before slamming on the breaks, and forcing the protesting car to go forwards instead.

I started babbling at the teenage guy, shaken and stunned. I was trying to thank him, and was in the middle of making no sense whatever when I felt a strange hot sensation pressing at me. I stopped talking and watched numbly as the driver of that car over-corrected for the curve as he'd started and lost control. Only a couple of hundred metres down the road, the car smashed into a lamp-post. The bumper crumpled and the tail swung out into the road before coming to a stop.