I Need Help

I'm crouching on the floor of an alleyway. I'm waiting for someone to come by so I can tell them I really need help.

Before all this, I was strolling down this very street, walking home with foggy neon memories of a wild party. They are gone now, obscured by less superficial ones. All I can really remember is that I enjoyed myself ... the last time I did for a very long time.

I hear footsteps approaching. I cry, "Help me ... Is someone there? Please ... help me ..."

Before all this, my footsteps were heard. A few shadows crawled out of the building walls like ghouls and surrounded me, enveloped me. The streetlights failed to shine in that spot, so their faces were hidden from me. All I saw were a trio of silhouettes and Cheshire Cat grins.

The footsteps maintain their pace. I raise my voice. "I need help ... Please come ..."

Before all this … before I moved to this city for schooling … all I knew about urban life came from glamorous Hollywood depictions and my parents’ hand-me-down warnings. They cautioned me with scary stories inherited from generations of ancestors who never grew tired of living in the same backwater plot. I wanted to escape the wilderness.

I can hear the footsteps getting faster. I let out one more pained moan.

I didn't do anything to get away from the shadow men. I couldn’t run, scream, or fight back. What could I have done? Whatever I could have done, the time to do it is gone forever. Now, I am here. I have never left this spot.

My hero has come. "I heard you, miss! Are you okay?"

"No ..." I whimper. "It hurts ... it hurts so much ..."

I can't see his face either. "D-don't worry, young lady, I'm gonna help you. Let me take a look. What's wrong?" He starts pulling out his cell phone so he can see me. There's no light near the alleyway - the same problem from a decade ago. Darkness still looms over this spot.

He shines his light on me and I finally see a young, scared face. The man flinches at the blood on the side of my clothes and the puddle around me . "Wh-what happened to you?"

I stop crouching on the ground, swiftly turn, and stab a rusted knife right through his neck. Blood burst forth like water from a broken dam, reddening the rest of my dress. He could only let out a choking sound, gagging on his own blood. I thrust my knife again. And again. And again. Even after the choking noises stopped. Again.

My hero came. He came ten years late.

On the night he should have come, those men brutalized me in ways no one should ever be made to go through. When they were done with me, I was reduced to nothing but a bag of torn skin and bones. I was voiceless. Hopeless. Helpless. No Good Samaritan swooped in to punch out the bad guys and lift me away. Medical help came only when I dragged myself to the hospital doors the morning after. The police told me there was no way to arrest those beasts because I couldn't describe their faces, and when I pushed, they told me that things like this happened all the time in this city. My story has never been heard. No one wants to hear something like this.

Now, ten years to the night, I have returned to that tiny corner of Hell. I lay down on the floor as I did when they were done with me, and weakly called for help every time someone passed by. He's the third in the pile – so far.

I'm hoping that the three who destroyed and changed me will pass by here again. Maybe I already got one or more of them. But I can't take chances - never again. I'm also getting revenge on the city that stood there and shrugged that night. Not one person answered my pleas. Anyone who comes by now is a bloody hypocrite. Everyone is responsible. And unlike me, they will find swift justice.

I know I need help. But this is how I am helping myself.

The sound of footsteps comes sooner than I expected. I cannot help but grin.

"Help me ... Someone please come and help me ..."