RESCUE ((racetrack higgins)

Three Things for Certain

There were three things she'd never forget about the night he saved her.

On a chilly, unforgiving November night in Worst Neighborhood, Manhattan, she folded in on herself as the cruel wind bit at her exposed skin. She so desperately wished she could find refuge in a warm building, or snag a blanket from the homeless man sleeping further down the corner, but she knew that would be wasting the night. And Lord knows she needed the money.

Instead she waited, like always, under the dim, well known streetlight- the only one near the infamous alley that blinked- letting the dull hum of electricity lull her into a more relaxed state of mind. She tried so desperately to forget about the sleep she was losing, forget about the food she wasn't eating, forget about the money she wasn't making. Just forget. She always tried to think of better things instead. Tonight, it was that damned streetlight, the single flashing light somehow reminding her of the bigger, prettier ones she'd read about in the papers. Something about the turn of the century leading to newer, better, bigger inventions that were all the rage. The lights shined on a flashier, busier street that was not too far from her own. People came from across the globe to visit New York- the city of dreams, a promise land of opportunity that she'd been deprived of for sixteen years. A scoff escaped her.

No, her world was much different. With the way her life was going, the closest she'd get to "opportunity" was a bedroom that wasn't hers.

There were three things he'd never forget about the night he found her.

On the same chilly, unforgiving November night in Worst Neighborhood, Manhattan, he pulled his vest a little closer in a fight against the gust of wind that suddenly blew against him. He knew he shouldn't be out at this time- no good ever comes from dark Brooklyn alleys in the middle of the night. But cigars didn't come free, and the card games were most exciting in the few hours after midnight.

He tucked away the wad of cash he'd won deep in his front pocket and picked up the pace. He knew Jack was waiting up and would give him another lecture on staying out all hours of the night- he'd be stupid to think anything less. Might as well get in as early as he could. On a second thought, however, the seventeen year old knew the only man who sold cigars to kids his age was just a block over, and the boy's supply was getting fairly low. His addiction won over as he decided to take the detour from his route home. The few working street lights illuminated a familiar enough figure in his usual spot. The blonde exchanged a small chunk of his earnings for three cigars, shook hands with the man, and tucked them all away, one in his mouth, the other two in his back pocket. He pulled out a match from his shirt pocket, scraped it against a wall, lit the cigar, and surrounded himself with a cloud of smoke. He liked the hum that filled his lungs, liked the way it always somehow seemed to take his mind off of more troubling matters. He tucked his cap in a fashion that cast a shadow over his face and continued to walk down the deserted street, hands in his pockets and head in his own clouds.

She had almost fallen asleep sitting under that broken street light. The night was slower than usual, and the street light lullaby wasn't helping her at all. Just when she was about to call it a night, a buggy slowly turned the corner, headlights off. Her heart seemed to sigh with relief as the buggy slowed to a stop, and a man smirked at her. As quickly as her heart raised, however, it sank twice as fast. There must have been some piece of her that was grateful for the slow night, grateful that she wouldn't have to forget anything, at least for tonight. Nevertheless, the world around her spun on, and with a tear rolling down her cheek, she forced herself to approach the black automobile. She convinced herself it was alright. She'd earn what she needed, and it was going to be fine. Now, if she could just forget what she was doing...

He turned the corner just in time, catching sight of the girl he concluded couldn't be any older than sixteen walking up to the passenger's side of a black buggy. Her light brown hair cascaded down her exposed back, her fingers fidgeted under the spotty glow of a humming street light. Of course, with all the kinds of activities occurring at this time of night, he couldn't safely judge what exactly was going on at first. But a closer look gave him what he needed to know. Her revealed legs, the bags under her eyes, the few tears streaming down her cheeks... a surge of remorse for this unknown girl flooded through his veins, and there was no possible way he could let her get in that car.