Discrepent

Flashback

       Chills rolled down my spine. My neck hair rose and fell as goosebumps appeared and then sunk back into my skin. I kept peaking up around at my surroundings, even though they weren't going to change. It seemed like the concrete I was sitting on only got colder the longer I sat there and my armpits weren't doing a great job of warming my hands. It was sophomore year, so none of my friends had cars yet. Since my mom had no idea I went out, I couldn't let her find out about me leaving, meaning no ride from her. My brother was the only person who could possibly come pick me up, but it had already been 45 minutes and so he obviously wasn't going to show. Using my hands and twigs for arms, I pushed myself up, straightening my legs and hopping up into a standing position. It was so cold; I'm surprised my joints weren't locked. Suddenly, I felt a cold gust of air zoom past me, and a shadow followed, moving swiftly down the street. Then, another gust and shadow and two more. I pushed myself up against the concrete wall of the liquor store I was waiting, praying to God that an impervious gun shot wasn't  going to send a bullet flying towards me. Before I could even think, two palms wrapped themselves around me by the shoulder, and extreme force yanked me away from the wall and slung me on the ground. It happened so fast, I couldn't tell who it was or if it was a male or female. I caught the slightest glimpse of the hooded face, before it disappeared down the sidewalk and into the dark looming a few feet ahead along with five other bodies, running at light speed. Don't get me wrong, the streets were pretty lit with street lamps and store lights, but the darkness seemed to swallow up all sources of brightness. I lay there, shocked, hands scraped from sliding, and skid marks trickling blood from my right knee and elbow. Landing on my hip was the worst feeling ever, and the pain was more like a momentary knife slipping into my body, and then just a tinge after every move I made. My body was stiff, confused, and 2 feet into the street. No cars were coming, so I didn't bother to gather myself and hurry out of the street and back to "safety" next to the wall. How could I have not been paying attention long enough to notice 6 people running at light speed right in my direction? I mean, I couldn't even hear them coming until they were millimeters away from me, and it didn't make sense for them to have come from anywhere other than the liquor store, which was closing for the night. As if I wasn't scraped enough, even my chin had sustained a wound. Everything stung. My cuts burned with the breezes of cold air seeping in my clothing from the newly scraped holes on the knee of my jeans and the elbow of my sweater. Who knew this fabric was going to be so useless in protecting me from danger. I had started to fall into a deep misunderstanding, as well as fear, all my surroundings blackening even more. I felt like someone was right behind me, and someone was running towards me, and bullets were whizzing by me. If you could describe a heart attack, this would be the moment I would picture.
          Honking. I heard honking from down the street. I tensed up, unable to move for some unknown reason. My arms weren't strong enough. My legs didn't have enough muscle. The headlights approached, quickly and smoothly, and I made my best attempt to drag myself over to the sidewalk. It felt like I may have dislocated my hip bone, because my legs were suffering from loss of movement. Before I could even breath, the car screeched to a halt near the sidewalk. My heart began throbbing out of my body, and I couldn't breath. I could see black shoes appear in the street, standing on the drivers side of the car  from where I was laying, and this motivated me to make an attempt to stand. The pain struck me like a hammer, burning and tinges of dislocation tugged on my willpower, but I managed to limp over to the wall and not much further. I know it sounds like I had just been shot, but my joints were very cold and it was hard to move and breath due to the pain coming from my hip. The lengthy legs of what looked like a man approached me slowly.
          "Please." I didn't mean to say it but there was nothing more I could do to defend myself. "Please." The person stopped a couple feet away from me, his hand up like a stop sign.
          "I'm not trying to hurt you." Silence created a void between the two of us. "Are you alright?" The voice came in smooth deeper toned flicks, only making me more uncomfortable.
     "I'm fine." My hand was wrapped around my body, holding onto my other elbow. This could possibly be the last time I see anyone.
     "You were laying in the road, not moving."
I glanced up, unable to meet his eyes because it was hard to make them out in the dark.
    "I'm fine. Please leave me alone." Suddenly, he reached out, yanking my hurt arm up. It was quiet for a few seconds, and I knew he knew I was lying.
    "You're not fine, you're bleeding." His voice rang in my head, and I suddenly felt a bit lightheaded. I lost balance, staring at the ground around, trying to muster up the strength to run away, but couldn't. His chest met my shoulder, and his arm grabbed my waist, supporting me completely. Whoever this man was, he was surprisingly strong. I didn't bother to break free. It didn't seem like he was trying to hurt me, and I didn't have the power to fight back.
     "Please."
      "Please what? I'm not just going to drive away so I can turn on the news tomorrow and find out that a young girl with cuts and bruises froze to death over night." The sternness In his voice made him hard to deny. I reached into the back pocket of my loose fitting, light blue, thrift store jeans and yanked my near-death phone out to stare at a half lit screen. Entering my password, my thumb slid across the screen, before double tapping the home button and clicking on the already-running messenger app. I was only disappointed by the lack of replies to my text messages of anger sent my brother and my pleas for help to my friends. I peaked up at him, noticing him glaring down the street at some interesting happening. I also began staring down the street squinting into depressingly interesting nothingness.
       "I can stand by myself." He released me finally, allowing me to rebalance myself on my own two legs. He was standing behind me, caution wafting from his body language. My phone ended  up back in my back pocket after warning me of it being at six percent battery life. There was no way out of this situation except to run, and I was truly in no shape for physical exercise. Though oddly enough, I couldn't bring myself to assume the worst of the guy.