Hiding

Chapter 1

"What a week!"

The slam of Diana's car door seemed to punctuate these words. She locked her car door and went to retrieve her brief case from the trunk. I'm so glad it's Friday! her mind continued.

It had been a hectic week for Diana. It was the last week she would have to be working two jobs. In order to move into a place of her own that wasn't a "rat hole" as she had put it, she had to spend a little more money. Reviewing her finances at that point had indicated the need for a supplemental income.

But that was at an end now. She had received a raise at her day job, "It's about time," she murmured at the thought, and she was taking over the Tuesday and Thursday lower‑belt classes in Karate (more a hobby than work). Things were falling into place nicely. "Almost too nicely," she further voiced her thoughts. "I'm almost afraid to think what could go wrong."

As if in reply to this last thought, the sound of an aluminum can being lightly kicked or bumped came from behind her. The sound burst the bubble of thought she had been in and immediately her awareness was heightened.

She had unlocked the trunk but now shut it. The feeling that came over her with the sound of the can made her decide that work could wait. Immediately, she started walking rapidly across the parking lot toward her apartment. She slowed a bit upon seeing two men ahead of her, thinking they might be cause for threat as well. At that moment, a hand wrapped around her left arm just below the shoulder. Something cold and sharp pierced her blouse, scratching her bare skin underneath, drawing a drop of blood. Her back instinctively arched away from the point, as if of its own accord, and her hands rose in the air even with her shoulders. His grip merely tightened.

"Keep quiet and you won't get hurt. Much, anyway," a deep whisper penetrated her shock. "You and me, see, we gonna have some fun." Even in her state of shock, it was clear to Diana that he was enjoying his power and her fear.

His hand released her arm and moved up to her shoulder, toward her neck as if to grab the hair at the nape of her neck.

It happened in the blink of an eye. Her keys forgotten, she pivoted clockwise, wrapping her right arm around his right wrist (the hand with the knife), simultaneously shooting her left palm in the direction of his head, striking his right cheekbone as it extended, her left foot coming around behind him as she moved. The force of the strike had turned his face away from her and, her hand now past his head, she brought her left wrist and forearm against his right cheek while still holding his right hand captive. When she was still again, he was arched in a back bend position in front of her, no longer in control of the situation. The only sound was of that of her keys finally hitting the ground.

His now precarious position allowed her easy control. When he recovered from his surprise at being struck by the "victim," he started to struggle. Diana firmly connected her knee to his back, emitting a loud "crack" from his spine.

"Wow! That was your back? Adjustment, twenty‑five bucks, please." With that she swept his leg, taking him to the ground rapidly, all the while controlling the hand with the knife in a rather painful way. When he hit the ground, she easily took the knife from his grasp. She still had control of his hand with one of hers while her foot delivered a quick, snapping kick to his head. Disoriented, he simply laid there staring into the sky as if wondering where he was and how he had gotten there.

Seeing his state, Diana dropped his hand, turned and after retrieving her keys from the ground, continued to walk quickly toward her apartment.

Upon entering her bedroom minutes later, the full weight of the situation hit home. She looked at the knife she still held. She could have been robbed ‑ no, worse. Raped or killed.