In 31 Days

Day 22: Such

It was our last day there. My mother told me we had to make it back in time for school starting and all that, but I stopped listening once she told me we'd be leaving.

It was night when I told her that I'd forgive Alex. Only in my mind, it wasn't that simple. It was more of a coax out of his shell so he'd confide in me more. I knew he was a genuinely nice person — his secrets to me and our time on the rooftop of the building could testify — but I still feel like a piece to the puzzle was missing. His outbursts were traumatizing, to say the least.

I told her I would be getting him a present at some fancy shop as an olive branch, albeit a little thinly veiled, but that hope disappeared when I walked around for 30 minutes using my map on my phone but couldn't find one.

Grudgingly, I walked to the nearest drug store. Now, this probably would sound very idiotic later when I was explaining it to him. I mean, how great would it honestly sound if some girl you sort of liked dumped you for some other trash city and handed you a present from the local drug store to make up for it? Not great, I thought, as I angrily stomped my way to the dingy store.

It was getting dark but I was determined to get that damn gift. Once I got to the store, I noticed a faint smell of pot and a single light illuminating the tiny room crammed with candy and strange keychains.

After browsing around for a solid five minutes, and trying my hardest to avoid the strange look from the aging, dirty-clothed cashier as I lapped the room in circles. I finally settled on a Long Island keychain with some dirt in the middle as some sort of stupid token.

I paid less than two bucks for (hopefully) his trust. I was a terrible friend, and I knew it. Pocketing it in my jeans, I stepped out the store and immediately noticed my surroundings.

For one thing, I was too caught up in buying his present that I didn't notice where my phone led me to. This part of the city was what literally every thriller movie described. This was Wyandanch, one of the towns with the highest ratio of gang members in the country.

Scared shitless was a mere understatement: I nearly peed my pants when I read the sign next to me.

Swallowing my fears with a pregnant pause, I gripped my purse a little tighter as I walked according to my phone. I was almost within reach to the hotel when I clumsily dropped my phone onto the dark street.

I bent down to pick it up.

Suddenly, I felt a rough boot slam into my behind, propelling me forward and sprawling me a good four feet onto the pavement.

I felt my head smash off to the side and my ear already starting to leak red.

I was no fool; I knew exactly what was happening. My blood went cold. Looking behind me, I crawled like an animal away from my attacker.

Correction: attackers.

I saw their knives before I saw their faces.

Dark, bleak faces that had one too many hits to the cheek, noses with one to many snorts, eyes with not one but an infinite amount of grueling memories. They were feral, and I felt like their next prey.

There were about four of them.

"Four against one isn't fair, you know," I meekly said as a distraction as I fumbled for my phone.

"We don't care," one man sneered, sending literal shivers up my spinal cord. I now understood the figurative speech, only I wish it didn't have to come to life.

I took in a lungful of clear air but there wasn't enough for me. I choked. On the damn oxygen, and they chuckled a little more. They were going to torture me.

This was the end, I knew it. But I was fast, my subconscious thought. Perhaps I could outrun them. On the other hand, the fact that there were four of them meant I was probably screwed.

I sneaked my shaking hand behind my back and called the first person on speed dial, praying they would pick up. But I needed time.

"What time is it?" I asked.

They seemed puzzled, probably wondering how I could possibly think of the time when I was about to be bloody murdered.

"It's 12:00," one man said, sending me a nice, disgusting smile.