never let me down | a. wilder (depeche mode)

1 - Useless

Charlotte

Shit.

I'm leaving the restaurant where I'm a waitress.

It's a chilly Sunday evening, and the street is pretty much deserted.

There's been this group of thugs that has been stealing young girls' purses and beating them up, and with my luck, I'll be the next one.

I walk briskly down the street, nervous.

I hear footsteps behind me.

I turn around, and sure enough, a group of five, muscular guys seem to be following me.

I hold onto my purse and quicken my pace.

The footsteps behind me quicken, and I hear them talking.

Then, it starts.

The footsteps behind me turn into a stampede of Doc Martens hitting the pavement.

I start to run, hoping my tennis shoes can outrun them.

I can't.

"Purse, now," one of the men says, grabbing my shoulder.

I know they're going to end up getting my bag anyway, but I can't give up without a fight.

"No," I say. "Get your hands off me or I'll scream."

The men laugh at my threat. They rip the purse off my shoulder and start to go through it.

The contents they discover are a bus pass, five pounds, a lip stick, and a tissue.

And boy, are they mad.

"What are you hiding?" Says the man who grabbed my purse.

I say nothing.

I'm not telling them about the generous amount of tips that are in the inside pocket of my jacket.

"Tell us!" The man says again.

It's a lose-lose situation. If I talk, I get beat up. If I don't talk, I get beat up.

They start to punch me, and laugh at me when I kick and try to scream. Only a squeak comes out.

I'm starting to feel numb. The repeated punches are wearing me down.

Just when I'm about to give up hope, I hear shouts from further down the road. Footsteps come running, and the thugs run off.

They're holding... pots and pans?

One of them yells at another one to go get help.

I feel one of the four men take my hand.

"My name's Dave, and we're getting help."