Thirteen

Working in downtown Dublin was bad enough, but working as a dancer made it even worse. There were small gangs in the surrounding areas and the suburbs, but right in the heart of downtown burned a deep rivalry between two gangs. Diamond took the Upper East Side, but 13 took over most of the city. Led by two gang leaders who never knew love or mercy, there was constant fights and violence despite heavy law enforcement. 13 had so many inside members and a heavy fear instilled in everyone that the police usually never got involved.

      Alan Reid was the cold and bloodthirsty leader of 13. He started a tradition that all members have a fighting Irish tattoo, usually prominent on the back of the neck. He had only one son, Niall Horan, who took after his father and had no care for anything but drinking, smoking and money. He was known for spending lots of time at whorehouses or picking up hookers. His mother was killed in a bitter fight between Diamond, making Alan swear revenge on her death.

      There was an unofficial curfew for the city, ten o clock being the prime time for members of thirteen to come out and plan schemes or meet up in alleyways. Unfortunately, the club that I worked at closed at midnight, making it difficult to avoid running into either someone from 13 or a daring member of diamond. Usually the girls and I would walk together, making it safer to travel home.

      I lived a bit farther from everyone else, living on the west side of town, meaning I had to travel a bit farther than anyone else. As we exited the club and began our journey home, there was a heavy presence of 13 around. They watched us in silence but made no advances towards us, knowing that we would resist as a group. One by one the girls made their way home, till we reached the heart of downtown, where I bid goodbye to the last girl, making me alone. I stayed mainly along the lit areas, some of the late night diners still open. My shoes clicked loudly against the cobblestone, the street glistening from the rain falling earlier.

      I kept my head up and let my eyes wander to keep an eye on my surroundings, my heart racing. I kept my breath calm as to not become a target, even though none of thirteen was to be seen. As I passed by a closed toy store and glanced in the window, I noticed in the reflection of the glass that two men were following me. Before I had time to gauge what to do next, they grabbed my arms and shoved me into an unlit alley.

      I said nothing as one of them forced me against a wall, my muscles tensing as I was prepared to put up a fight. Even with no light, I could see their faint outlines, one of them had a buzzcut and a toothy smile, the other with a shaved head as well. The one holding me against the wall spoke first, his voice barely above a whisper.

            “What’s a hot piece of ass doing walking the streets alone?” He hissed, his arms gripped tightly around mine. I said nothing, my eyes scanning the alleyway to see light coming from a window across from us, a figure in the silhouette. My eyes darted back to the man as he inched closer to me, almost pressing himself against me.

            “Answer me when I’m talking to you, bitch.” His friend moved closer as I continued to keep quiet, my gaze burning into him. Suddenly I promptly opened my mouth and spit on him directly in the eye, making him flinch back and loosen his grip. I managed to wiggle away and begin walking back toward the street, only to be dragged back against the wall by his friend. This time I grunted softly from the cold hard brick digging into my back.

            “Let me go!” I yelled, only to have him close a hand around my throat and force me deeper into the wall.

            “Scream all you want, you stupid cunt. No one’s going to hear you.”My breathing quickened as I felt his hand slid up my dress and run across my thong. I tried my hardest to kick and slide my way out of his grasp, but it only tightened as he tried to pull my dress up. Suddenly he was ripped away from me, and I fell to the ground, coughing from the strain on my throat. I looked up to see two other men taking on my assailants. From behind I could see fighting Irish tattoos on their necks.