I Was Saved... by the Jerkface

Running Around New York City Is Really Tiring

© Copyright 2011

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My bare feet noisily pounded on the hot, dirty pavement of New York City. I should have known better. I shouldn't have taken that turn! It was stupid, but I wasn't looking where I was going - of all things, I was texting Gabby, my best friend. I was walking home from one of my parents' many stupid cocktail parties, refusing to take a taxi since our house was just down the river a little bit. How idiotic that was! I wasn't paying attention to where I was going, and went into an alley I didn't recognize.

Right now, I really wished I'd put the stupid phone down. Because, you know, I didn't really appreciate running like a flipping maniac trying to get away from the guy who was trying to mug me - or whatever.

I'd left my shoes about half a mile back, in the alleyway. No way was I going to get away from the creep in those heels! Sweat covered the my face and back, making my black evening dress cling to me restrictively. I took a chance and looked behind me, my breathing ragged in my chest. It felt like my lungs were on fire, but I had to keep running as fast as I could, because he was still following after me, gaining on me.

When I had turned into the dreaded alleyway, I hadn't noticed anything off about him. He just looked like another homeless guy. But how wrong I was.

He looked to be an older man, around his forties. In the dark, I had thought he was a homeless guy. Now, as I ran from him, I saw that he was sitting in the alley having a few shots. Or maybe more than a few.

"Hey," he'd said, slurring his words. "Come 'ere..."

I'd gulped and backed away slowly, aware that I'd made a mistake. I pushed my phone inside my purse pocket and clutched the bag to my chest, just incase.

"What's yur name?" he asked, getting to his feet. He walked towards me, backing me into a wall, and leaned over my face. I could smell the foul scent of one too many shots on his breath.

"Um... I'm going to go... sorry to bother you," I managed to squeak out, struggling to get out from underneath him. I was really starting to panic by then, my heart starting to race.

"No, don't go. The fun's just about to start," he'd said creepily. That's when I pushed him as hard as I could and took off running.

Even in his drunken state, he was surprisingly fine at running. Just my luck!

I never thought that I would be in this situation. Me! Annabelle Gerald, the one who always gets decent grades, never does anybody wrong on purpose, and always tries to please everyone, especially my parents. I guess I just figured nobody would bother me as long as I left them alone. I was wrong.

I turned my head back to the front, kicking up the speed a notch, even though my lungs were constricting by now. I had always had a mild problem with asthma, but I couldn't think about that now. All I could think about was that I needed to run away. It was quite possibly life or death right now. Who knew what this creep would do to me? Would he simply take my purse and leave? It didn't have much in it. Or would he do... something worse? The thought scared me senseless, and I started screaming for help on top of running for my life.

"Help me!" I started screaming up at the buildings that towered above me. It probably would do no good, and they probably couldn't hear me because I barely got it out (I could barely breathe), but I had to try. My mind was thrown into a frenzy.

I was on a deserted street now, a more calm, neighborhood street. Damnit, Annabelle! I cursed myself. Why the hell didn't you go down a more popular street?! People would have helped you then!

But there was obviously no turning back now.

Then, I saw my chance! One, single, lone car was cruising down the deserted parkway. I decided to do something drastic and run in front of the car to get their attention. I knew it was dangerous, but I really didn't have a choice.

I jumped out into the middle of the street, preparing for the worst. It was better than being caught by the mugger. Anything was better than that.

The driver didn't see me until the very last second, screeching to an almost halt as he blared his horn at me. I banged on the car, screaming "HELP!". When the damn idiot didn't get out of the car - he just kept on cursing at me for being stupid - I decided to keep running. The mugger was gaining a dangerous amount of ground on me, and I didn't think I could outrun him forever.

My adrenaline pushed once more. As if I didn't already have enough of the heart-pumping stuff in my body, my brain decided it was time for more, and I pushed myself even faster than before. I was still screaming, however.

I crossed another street. And another. The freaking guy would not give up! I was starting to curse to myself, over and over. Why, oh why, did this have to happen to me? An hour ago, I was at a party, sipping some of my parents' champagne and chatting with the financially elite. This couldn't be happening!

As I crossed a more busy street, a taxi came at me out of nowhere. And they weren't going to stop. I stood frozen, like a deer in the headlights. I resigned myself to my fate.

Suddenly, I was being pulled out of the road by my waist. I screamed and kicked, thinking surely the mugger had me and he was going to catch me - or worse, rape me.

"Calm down! Hey!" said a male voice I knew wasn't the mugger's. I breathed a sigh of relief, whipping around and facing my rescuer. I was about to say thank you when I saw the mugger out of the corner of my eye.

I made a move to run again, when I realized, Duh, stupid! This guy could help you!

Fear lit up my eyes as I explained to the man who just saved me, "He's trying to mug me!" and I pointed at the man chasing me. "Please help me!"

We were on another residential street, so there wasn't really any one else around. The mugger ran up to us a few seconds later, and grabbed me by my arm, and I screamed in pain - his fingers were digging into my muscle.

"I've been running all over damn town for you, you little bitch!" he said, raising his hand to strike me. I flinched and closed my eyes, whimpering. But the blow never came. Suddenly, his forceful grip was torn off my arm.

I could only stand and watch in grateful shock as the guy who pulled me out of the way of the taxi knocked the mugger to the ground with one punch, giving him a bloody - and probably broken - nose. A few more punches and some added kicks later, the mugger was rolling on the ground, and the man grabbed my arm, but not a vice grip like the mugger's, and ushered me quickly into the nearest building.

My breathing was coming in shaky gasps as the events of the night were finally allowed to sink in. Hot tears rolled down my cheeks.

Soon, though, I realized that I should be thanking this man for my life.

I turned to him, finally fully seeing him in the light of the downstairs lobby of an apartment building. He was tall, nearly a head taller than me, with sandy blonde hair and piercing blue/green eyes. He looked about my age, surprisingly.

I stopped staring and spoke through my panting. "Thank you..." I said, trying to display sincerity with every word. "So much. You saved my life."

He regarded me with an odd look in his eyes, sort of calculating, which unnerved me, but who was I to ask questions? "You're welcome," he said, turning in the other direction and stalking off.

"Hey!" I yelled, a little miffed. I was trying to thank him.

He didn't even turn around. I grabbed his shoulder and spun him to face me. "Do I at least get to know your name?" I demanded, and then scolded myself. Who the hell was I to be demanding when he just saved me?

"Blake. Blake Harold," he said, and then spun on his heel and walked off.

The last thing on my mind as I called a cab to go home was, He was really hot.

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