I looked up, shielding my eyes from the late evening sun. A guy holding a plastic convenience store bag and a skateboard under his arm stood above me, his eyebrows arched questioningly.
My hands were wet with blood and my cheeks were stained with tears. I quickly wiped my hands on my shorts and stood up on unsteady feet. My stomach was twisted into knots and I shivered again, but didn’t respond.
“Do you have a thing against answering questions?” he chuckled and I scowled.
I straightened my shoulders and flipped my long, brown hair over my shoulder, lifting my chin in a show of strength I didn’t feel. “I’m fine,” I said firmly.
The guy dropped his skateboard onto the ground and rolled it back and forth underneath his foot. He cocked his head to the side and gave me a disbelieving smile. “That’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and glared indignantly. “You don’t know me.”
The boy couldn’t have been much older than I was. His too thin face was angular in a way that indicated he had only just lost the roundness of childhood. He was skinny, his arms long. His legs longer. But he was lovely to look at. He had a chiseled beauty that would have been perfect on a runway.
But this kid was no model, nor would he ever be one. His green eyes were hesitant and cautious; his skin marred with at least a dozen scars, some more vivid than others. And those were just the ones I could see. His black hair was messy and on the long side, but clearly not by choice.
His clothes were threadbare and worn. His sneakers had holes in the sides and were missing laces. I could see his collarbone jutting prominently.
This guy had been on the streets for a while. So even though we were roughly the same age, his face held a maturity that mine didn’t.
He flipped the board up onto its back wheels and picked it up again. He shrugged. “Whatever. I was trying to be nice. See ya around.” With a look that was entirely too sympathetic, he turned and walked towards the group of kids smoking by the broken fence beside the river.
Way to make friends, Imogen, I berated myself.
I was on my own now. I couldn’t afford turning down niceties. I pulled on the hem of my too tight shirt. I felt exposed. Vulnerable. And that wasn’t good when you were surrounded by strangers.
“Hey sweet thing, I haven’t seen you around here before.” A guy wearing a hoodie appeared beside me. I couldn’t really see his face and that bothered me. He gave off a vibe I didn’t like. A cigarette hung from his mouth, ash falling onto his shirt.
I looked away, ignoring him, hoping he’d leave me alone if I were rude enough. I could see the skateboard boy was still hanging around. He was sitting on an overturned trashcan, eating something from the plastic bag he had been carrying.
I noticed that he glanced my way occasionally, but didn’t make any attempt to come back over.
The hoodie guy inched closer and I wanted to move away. But I didn’t. I didn’t want him to know that he bothered me. Instinct told me to not reveal any weakness out here.
“I was talking to you. You think you’re too good or somethin’?”
Just say something to get him to leave you alone!
“No, I don’t think that. I’m just hanging out. I was about to leave.” I forced myself to drop my arms casually to my side, tucking my thumbs in my pockets as though I was doing just what I said. Hanging out.
“Don’t rush off. Things were just about to get started. Why don’t you come hang out with me for a while?” Hoodie Guy grabbed me by the upper arm and pulled me towards him.
I stumbled, but managed to stay upright. His fingers were digging into my flesh and I jerked my arm out of his hold. “Don’t touch me unless I tell you to,” I hissed.
Hoodie Guy chuckled and it wasn’t a nice sound. “Then tell me to,” he said, grabbing me again. “I really think you need to come over here with me.” He pulled on me again and this time he wasn’t letting go.
I cast a look around the darkened clearing below the bridge. We were surrounded by people, but no one was looking our way. And I knew that no one would lift a finger to intervene. They existed by a different set of rules down here. It was every boy or girl for themselves.
“Let me go,” I growled, trying to get free.
“Shut the fuck up, bitch,” Hoodie Guy snarled, no longer trying to keep up any sort of pretense. He dragged me over rocks towards a wooded area.
He’s going to rape me. Or worse he was going to kill me.
“Please, just let me go,” I pleaded, not sounding remotely tough or badass anymore. I just wanted to get away.
My shoes caught on the rocks and I stumbled again, falling to the ground. Hoodie wrenched on my arm so hard that I was worried he dislocated it. “Stand up, bitch! Fucking stand up, now!”
“Is there a problem here?”
Relief thick and suffocating swept over me. I looked up, my hair in my face, my arm still firmly in Hoodie Guy’s grasp and saw Skateboard Boy staring down at me, his face hard and unreadable.