Ten- Saving Brooklyn

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I feel so guilty for not having a big build up scene like all of your comments suggested.

Now I'll feel forever guilty for writing a bad chapter.

Poop.

Sorry! x

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 ‘HELP!’ I scream- my voice hoarse and dry. My throat burns for water and my stomach is not only empty but completely bruised, and I think I’ll throw up at any minute. I’m not sure how long I’ve been here but the house is in complete darkness and no-one is home. So far I haven’t discovered any broken or fractured bones, but I know for a fact I’m covered in bruises and I’m bleeding. I feel weaker and almost sleep-deprived. I remember fading in and out of consciousness, either due to having a blow to the head or an unbearable pain somewhere on my body. I knew what he did to me last night. I could go as far as saying ‘he robbed me of my innocence’. That wasn’t really my biggest worry right now- my biggest worry was either how to break free of this mad house or the man coming back for me. Judging by the rapidly changing darkness in the house it was around 5am in the morning, and I don’t really know where a rapist could be at 5am in the morning, but I was intent on getting out of there now.

Slowly assembling myself and somehow managing to stand myself up, I limp across to a large door. I can tell it’s the front door, and as he probably didn’t expect me to wake up anytime soon, the lock is only flicked shut. I unlock the door and it swings open, hitting me with a mild breeze- and since I’m so weak and fragile in this state, I almost get blown over. The morning sun shines over the houses, giving a nice glow to the neighbourhood. Speaking of the neighbourhood, to my surprise, it was quite neat and friendly looking. I glance over to the next house along, and a morning newspaper sits neatly on their doorstep, basically inviting me over. I knew that the best possibly means of escape was to just get out of the house, and without thinking, I limp weakly through the man’s garden and onto the damp lawn of their neighbour.

Basically crawling across the lawn without shoes on, I make it up to the house’s door and I knock loudly. The palms of my hands are damp from the grass and my lower arm bruised. I’d decided then and there that if I looked as bad as I felt, I’d look like a purple mess. I’d bet anyone $50 my hair looked like bed hair and I looked like I’d gotten a paintball gun and shot myself with make-up. I knew that if these people saw my bruises, they’d expect I’d come from a local club and I’d had a wild night and needed some help. I’d tell them that I’d gotten mobbed and lost on my way home instead of making it awkward and having to explain what happened.

The door slowly opened to reveal a middle aged woman wrapped in a pink dressing gown, holding her cell phone. Her eyes are barely open but she scans me up and down before wearily cocking and eyebrow.

‘Excuse me Miss, I was mobbed last night and I’ve lost my orientation. Would you be able to help me find my way back?’ I stutter, my lip split open. It had only just occurred to me that my overcoat was badly ripped and my dress ripped and pulled down to my knee. I looked horrible.

The woman automatically looked sympathetic and opened the door wider, inviting me in. I silently thank her and step inside, and it’s so much warmer. She carefully takes my hand and leads me through to a spacious living room where a new paper sat on the coffee table and a cup of warm mocha. She gently sits me on the couch and rushes off into a hallway, quickly returning with a warm wet towel. She places it on my arms and comes back with a few more, placing them over badly bruised areas. She rushes around silently just placing and taking off items, and to be completely honest, there was a sense of home in this house. I was comfortable with this woman even though she hadn’t spoken a word to me. The silence wasn’t awkward. I felt almost relaxed, but I was still oddly alert after waking up in that house.

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