“Yeah, John, that’s enough.”
John looks at me and his eyes lower to my body.
No, please don’t.
The one holding me lets me go, but John grabs me and pulls me backward toward him, covering my mouth again. I can’t breathe properly, and I can’t move.
Help!
“John, she’s probably my daughter’s age.”
“Shut up, assholes!” His shout echoes in my ear. “Get out of here.”
“But . . .”
“Get out of here!”
The two men exchange glances, and I plead with them with my eyes, but they leave.
No. God, please don’t.
John drags me under the bridge, and I start kicking and fighting desperately. He grabs me by the hair and turns me toward him. “Cooperate, I don’t want to hurt you more than necessary. But if you scream, it’s going to go real bad for you, pretty girl.”
As soon as he releases my mouth, I scream. “Help me! Please—”
He hits me. I didn’t even see him raise his hand. I only feel the strong impact on my right cheek. I’ve never been hit before; I’ve never felt such strong, sudden pain. It throws me off balance and sends me to the ground. Everything spins, and my right ear throbs. I can taste blood in my mouth.
“Is anyone there?” I hear a voice from the bridge above, and it sounds like God. “What’s going on?”
John panics and runs away, and I crawl to sit up. “Help! Down here!” My voice sounds weak. The whole right side of my face throbs.
“Oh God!” It’s a man’s voice. In a few seconds that feel like an eternity, he appears in front of me. “Oh my God, are you okay?”
I can’t talk, I have a lump in my throat. I just want to go home. I just want to be safe. He kneels in front of me.
“God, are you all right?”
I manage to nod my head.
“Should I call the police? Can you walk?”
With his help, I get up, and we move away from that hellish darkness.
Mom . . .
House.
Safe.
That’s all my brain can think of when the man lends me his phone. With trembling fingers, I dial the only number I know: my mother’s. But she doesn’t answer, and my heart sinks in my chest. Tears blur my vision.
“Do you want me to call the police?
No, I don’t want cops, I don’t want questions. I just want to go home where I’m safe and where no one can hurt me. But I don’t have the courage to walk alone, not again, and I don’t want to ask this stranger to walk with me. And then I remember that my mother’s phone number was the only one I knew until recently. Until Ares started texting me.
At this point I don’t care what he and I have agreed, I just need someone to take me home. This call is my only salvation, and if Ares doesn’t answer, I don’t know what I’ll do.
On the third ring, I hear his voice.
“Hello?”
The lump in my throat makes it almost impossible for me to say anything. “Hello, Ares.”
“Who is it?”
“It’s . . . Raquel.” My voice breaks. I have tears falling from my eyes. “I . . .”
“Raquel? Are you okay? Are you crying?”
“No, well, yes . . . I . . .”
“For God’s sake, Raquel, tell me what’s wrong.”
I can’t talk, I can only cry. For some strange reason hearing his voice has made me burst into tears. The guy takes the phone from me.
“Hi, I’m the phone’s owner. The girl was attacked under a bridge.” There’s a pause. “We’re at the park on Fourth Avenue, in front of the construction building. Okay, all right.” He hangs up.
I’m just a sea of tears. The man touches my shoulder.
“He’ll be here in a few minutes. Calm down, breathe.”
The minutes fly by. Like I said, my neighborhood isn’t far, but I didn’t expect to see Ares running toward us. He’s wearing gray pajama pants and a T-shirt of the same color, and his hair is a mess. His beautiful eyes meet mine, and the concern on his face disarms me. I stand up to walk toward him. Ares doesn’t say anything but quickly embraces me, smelling of soap, and in this moment of safety, of reassurance, I am safe. He leans back and holds my face.
“Are you okay?” I nod faintly and his finger brushes against my busted lip. “What the hell happened?”
“I don’t want to talk. I just want to go home.”
Ares doesn’t push me to say more. He looks at the man to one side of us. “I’ll take care of it; you can go. Thank you very much.”