Between The Lines

1.

It was a chilly night. The moon was half-hidden by clouds, like a storm was coming. I should've paid more attention to the weather forecasts; I was cold. I only wore jeans and a loose top. My friend, Olivia, said I looked pretty skimpy, which I didn't understand because nothing was showing. Had I known I would be hit by a car, I would've chosen something better to wear than my 'skimpy' outfit.

But I guess you're not supposed to know those things. I had gone to the party planning to return home around eleven, but I never made it home. Well... I did, but not in the conventional sense (and I made it way past eleven).

Olivia's boyfriend, Frankie, had offered me a ride home. I didn't say anything at the time, but I'd seen him have a beer, and if we had been pulled over, that definitely would've shown up on the Breathalyzer thing; also, he didn't have his own car, so who's was he going to use?

I had originally walked to Angela's house alone-not too far since most of us lived in the older, poorer district-so I had no problem walking back. I had preferred it that way since my ex-boyfriend, Mitchell, had been all over a girl I didn't think any of us knew, and I really didn't want him to see me. It had been Olivia's idea to go to the party, and she had told me he wouldn't be there.

I don't blame Olivia at all for what happened. She might've invited me to go to the party, but I had agreed. It seemed things were meant to get a little out of control.

I do, however, blame myself for not glancing over my shoulder as I crossed that street.

Orchid Avenue was infamous for its traffic. Yes, I could've used the crosswalk, but... I'm sorry, who actually does? I just needed to get to Marino Street that made that T-intersection. I wasn't going to walk all the way to the stop, cross the street at the lights, then walk back. There hadn't been much traffic that night for a Friday. Everyone who lived nearby was probably at Angela's party, so I felt a little jaywalking wasn't going to kill me. Oh, the irony....

Another thing about Orchid Avenue was that, even though it was a residential area, there were no speed bumps. A lot of people-young people, mostly-sped through there like a checkered flag was waiting for them.

So, after a dark SUV whizzed by, I started to cross. I was in the middle of the street when I felt a tug on the strap of my bag from behind me, making me stumble back.

In the dim light of the moon, he was light-skinned with a need for a shave. His eyes were light, open and wild. He clenched his jaw as he yanked me to a halt. Through his teeth, he said, "Give me your money." He sounded young, maybe late twenties, early thirties at the most.

I struggled in his grip. "Get off me! I don't have anything." It was a stupid thing to say. I carried my bag with me everywhere, and I always had my emergency one hundred dollars in twenties. And this was an emergency.

He grabbed my elbow with his other hand. "Just give me the bag and walk away." His voice wavered; I didn't realize this until later.

"I have pepper spray," I lied, my voice shaking too. "Let me go or I scream-"

He didn't care. He just started pulling at my bag, and my idiot self fought him back, refusing to let go. All I had inside was my phone, emergency feminine products, the emergency money, my dad's old lighter, and a hairbrush. I didn't think of it until later that I only fought for the stupid bag because of the lighter. It was one of the few things I had of my dad's that I could carry with me always.

If I'd been smarter, I could've told him to wait, let's get out of the middle of the street, let me get something of mine from my bag (the lighter, maybe the phone too) and you can just take it all and leave, okay?

But no. Instead, I noticed the lights of a car speeding our way, and rather than just give in, I pulled us right in its path.