My name is Roger
Thompson. I am a lawyer working for a small firm operating in Queens, NY. I don’t
have many friends, I try not to make enemies. I live alone. Every day I go to
work and come home. Nothing changes. But one day, something horrible happened.
It was just a normal
day for me. I got coffee at the gelato place down the street, sat at my desk,
filed some paperwork, talked to some clients, then went to go home. It was
about nine P.M. I went out and got in my car, but it wouldn’t start. Very odd,
considering I just had it looked at last week. Oh well, I live a few blocks
away. It was dark. The few street lamps still working cast long shadows
everywhere. The evenings mist was
starting to creep in. I pulled my hat down, tightened my coat and set off.
About halfway home, the
streetlights were all out. I still don’t know why that was. Against my better judgment,
I went down this street anyway. I wanted to be home as quickly as possible. Up
ahead I heard a scuffling sound, like someone was wrestling. Then I heard the
cries for help, muffled by something but clear enough that I could hear the
fear in the persons voice. I crept over to investigate, and saw what appeared
to be a mugging. Two men were holding down a woman, and one of them was going through
her things. As I took this all in, I realized that I recognized the woman. Her
name was Brenda. She lived across the street from me, we talked sometimes. I’d
had feelings for her for quite some time now and I think she knew it. One of
her attackers turned and saw me, and yelled at me to stay where I was. A porch
light came on next door, casting shifting shadows from the trees and bushes
over the scene. Brenda managed to free her mouth and told me to help her, and
that she could find a way to repay me later. At some point before I arrived,
some of her clothes had been torn, exposing her curves. Oh, she was beautiful.
And I wanted to help and see just what she had in mind when it was all over.
I felt around in my
pockets for anything that might help me here, a pen, a pencil, anything. I had
a letter opener. I remember vaguely thinking that my boss would be mad that I
hadn’t returned it when I left. Oh well. Now, how do I take these guys out? I’m
not a big guy, most would say I’m scrawny. I decided full on charge. So I
jumped at them, and stuck one of them in the shoulder. The other one socked me
in the temple, and I couldn’t see for a few seconds. I dropped my makeshift
knife. I felt a sharp pain in my stomach, and when my vision cleared I saw
Brenda, holding the letter opener with my blood dripping off of it. “A pity it
had to be you he spotted. I kind of liked you. Give us your cash and valuables
and you may go.” Shocked, I didn’t react. One of the guys pushed me, and I
punched him with all of the strength I could manage so he fell into the second
thug. Then I ran, as fast as I could. It seemed to be getting darker, and it
was surrounding me as if it was waiting for me to bleed out and die there in
the street. I could see the shadows of the two men catching up to mine. Fueled
by panic, I ducked down an alley and took random turns to try to ditch my pursuers.
But they stayed on my tail like a couple of blood hounds. I was getting tired,
and I had lost a lot of blood. I tried one last time to escape my attackers,
and jumped on to a dumpster and over a wall. Right into a dead end. There was a
light up above, in a fire escape. The grating cast a shadow over the whole
place, turning it into a big cage. I indeed felt trapped in a cage. At the open
end of the alley, I saw a silhouette walking towards me. All I could do was
slump against the wall and fall to the floor as their shadow came over me. The
last thing I remember was Brenda, telling me that I should have just cooperated
and that pain again, in my ribs this time. I blacked out and woke up in a
hospital.
A little digging
revealed that she was actually an accomplished thief, and that she had done
this many times before. I moved and never went back. I still have nightmares
about it.
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