By Kym Datura

Copyright

© 2014 by Kym Datura

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

ISBN: 978-1502874771

Chapter 1

As night falls, I stroll down the sidewalk at a pace that is fast enough to get me to where I am going, but slow enough to avoid the cracks on the sidewalk. “Step on a crack, break your momma’s back”. I remember that rhyme from when I was a child. Although if it were any truer now than it was from when I was a child, I would step on every single one of those damn cracks that I came across on the sidewalk. Then I would go back and step on the ones I missed.

Am I bitter against my mother? That would be the understatement of the year. In a nutshell, my mother is very controlling and in ways a religious nutcase. But, I don’t want to bore you with the details of the overpowering matriarch who raised me. No, there are much better things to talk about.

Like that stranger at the bar that I just left behind. I decided to stop off the local bar on my walk home from work. Ahhhh… work. That is another fiasco in itself altogether. But, I digress. I had walked into the bar and sat down. It was happy hour. Not sure what is so happy about a bunch of disgruntled employees stopping off at the bar to drown their sorrows away just enough to gather their bearings to go home, probably to a nagging wife or drunkard husband or even better, a quiet and lonely studio apartment where they are surrounded by four plain and dreary walls where they are reminded of all the failures in their life. A failed marriage, a lost job, a broken heart, something that reminds them of the constant failures they have endured and crossed in their pathetic lifetime.

It always amused me when they would have a happy hour at bars. Like somehow, the word “happy” would make all your problems disappear and go away. Sure alcohol numbs the pain, but when you sober up, the pain is there and sometimes even more, if you happen to have a hangover.

I stopped off at the bar to have a couple of drinks after work. My situation? I live alone in a one bedroom apartment. I’m a single woman, by choice. Never been married or had kids and I didn’t have that special someone in my life. You know, the type of someone that seems to only exist in romantic movies that are shoved down our throats with the hopes that everyone will soon find their happy ending to some love story that doesn’t even exist? Well, at least in my world it doesn’t.

Somehow, I seem to get involved with the most narcissistic, egotistical, self-preserving men in existence out there. I am a magnet to those type of men somehow. After one failed relationship after another, I decided about two years ago, to just remain single. Somehow, I seem happier this way. No waiting for those phone calls that never come. No having to listen to excuses as to why they are two hours late coming over. No smell of another woman’s perfume on their shirts, or pink lipstick on their collar. I mean, who the hell wears pink lipstick anymore? Didn’t that color go out with the eighties?

I sat at the bar and ordered my usual, rum and coke. I’ve seen some girls order rum and diet coke before and I never understood the concept behind that. I guess it has to do with the calories or something. As I was sipping my drink, a short stout man sat next to me. He appeared to be in his forties, maybe fifties. These days it’s so hard to tell with men and women with their age. With all the face injections, face lifts, surgeries and whatnot. I think he wanted to strike up a conversation with me by the way he was staring at me. No thank you. I just want to be alone, I thought to myself and got up and walked away before he could speak to me and give me that awkwardness that I have a hard time dealing with in situations like these.

I walked over to a table that had napkins on it and a basket of half eaten something or another. Funny how I would rather sit at a dirty table rather than talk to a stranger. As soon as I sat down, the waitress came over and cleaned the table up for me. “Oh, I see you already have a drink.” She said with a disdained look of a waitress making minimum wage and tips. “Would you like me to bring you another one?” She asked hopefully with the thought of just maybe she would get a good tip out of me.

I decided to throw her a bone. Can’t blame her for trying to make some extra bucks from me. “Sure. Rum and coke, please.” I asked her.

She smiled back, as if to say thank you, but it came out as a tired smile of being on her feet all day trying to make her money and make ends meet at home. Perhaps she had kids at home to feed? Or maybe a deadbeat husband. Or maybe she was just a single woman trying to survive in this world who seems to forget those who work hard every day. Whatever her situation was, she replied back, “Be right back with your drink.”

There was a television set up in the corner of the bar with the evening news on. The reporter was talking about a rash of killings that had been happening over the last year. All the victims had been homeless people here in the Downtown area. Which makes sense, the population of homeless people, not the killings. The streets are covered with them down here in the city.

I looked around the bar and it was a combination of office workers, a few construction workers and several randomly placed individuals who looked lost. And then there was me.

I get up at 6:00 a.m. every morning, take a shower, do my hair, put on my make-up, get dressed and drive to a three story building that specializes in accounting for small businesses. I live and work in downtown, yes the dirty city. My job is about six city blocks away, so I walk there and back. I take the elevator to the third floor, where I take my place in my cubicle and sit there for four hours punching in numbers, then I take a lunch for 30 minutes, then go back to punching numbers until 5:00 p.m. I leave work, walk three blocks, stop off at the bar, have a couple of drinks, then walk three more blocks and I am home. This is my schedule Monday through Friday. Doesn’t the monotony make you want to scream?

On the weekends… Saturday is laundry day. My apartment complex has a laundry room. I do my laundry for the second half of the day since I sleep in on Saturdays. On Sundays, I sleep in also, but then I get up and watch television. Usually there is some movie of the week on and I watch that.

I have no friends to speak of, unless you count the bartender at the bar and the few of the regulars I manage to talk to now and again. I used to have a lot of friends and a social life. That was about four years ago when I was in a relationship and was engaged to get married. My fiancé and I shared the same friends. But, when our relationship ended, “our” friends suddenly became “his” friends. I wasn’t going to fight him. I was tired of fighting with him. In fact, at that time in my life, all I wanted to do was be alone. I spent, no, more like wasted eight years of my life in something that wasn’t actually going anywhere. Some say we broke up because he was cheating on me. Some say we broke up because I was cheating on him. The truth was that we broke up because we both realized that we wanted different things in life. He wanted to get married, live in a house, white picket fence, family, etc… The truth was that I was no June Cleaver and the notion of even molding into that type of scenario sickened me. I didn’t want children and I sure as hell didn’t want to live in suburbia in a small house with a white picket fence with 2.5 kids. How the hell do you get 2.5 kids anyway? Whenever someone would say that, I would envision two kids standing there and then a half of a kid, with blood and guts spilling out everywhere. Morbid, huh?

Welcome to my world.

So, now here I was walking home from the bar after having 2.5 drinks. Just joking, I was being sarcastic. I had three. Although they weren’t as strong as usual, so I will go back to my original 2.5. It was dark outside and I was walking home from the bar. There were many people milling about, either hurrying to get home and to fight traffic or heading to the local bar for happy hour. There were plenty of bars in downtown to choose from with all sorts of music tastes. I just chose to pick the one that was a dive bar.

There was a homeless man or maybe it was a woman, I wasn’t sure because they were covered in rags and torn clothing and a tattered old hat. Their face was black with dirt. It could have been an old woman or a man who had weathered over time in the streets.

Or maybe a younger person whose life had taken a battering with the hopes and dreams they had of coming out here to California where the roads are paved with glitter and movie stars, but in reality, it’s just one big granola bowl filled with fruits, nuts and flakes. Many come out here to San Diego, or were destined for Hollywood as an actor, actress, writer, singer, musician, some sort of pipe dream that never happened to them.

The glitter paved streets soon became filled with trash and litter and they migrated down here somehow where it’s always warm and when it does get cold, we feed and shelter our homeless. Down here in Downtown, they are everywhere. Just a fading reminder of squished hopes and dreams that will never be reached. Their lives will fade into the black asphalt and no one will remember who they were. It’s a sad, but harsh reality.

The homeless person had looked up at me and asked for spare change. I don’t think anyone really carries cash around anymore. I don’t. Everything is on plastic now a days or on their cell phones. What is spare change anymore anyways? With today’s economy being the way it is, people are scraping their pennies and saving.

I passed the homeless person and continued walking. At first what I thought was drops of red paint that I had stepped on, soon became bigger and bigger until I was standing in a pool of blood that was coming from the ally. I almost slipped in the thick substance, but managed to maintain my control. As I peered into the ally, I saw someone slumped over. I wasn’t sure what to do, or if the victim was alive or even if their assailant or assailants were still around… watching… gloating… peering at me and what my reaction would be to this horrific sight.

I suppose most women, or even men for that matter, would have begun to scream at the sight of a pool of blood leading to a possible dead body.

It’s odd you know? It’s odd how today’s society has become numb to these sort of things. We see it everywhere in movies, television, the violence in the streets and we have become desensitized to it all. I must have stood there looking at this bleeding body and got lost in my own personal thoughts, because I didn’t hear he couple behind me asking me what happened to the bloody body slumped before us.

“What happened?” The man asked calmly.

I didn’t respond.

“Ma’am? What happened?” He asked again in a southern accent.

All the while his wife was taking photos of the bleeding out body.

“What?” I replied to him with a question.

“What happened to this person?” He asked again with a hint of impatience in his voice. The flashes from his wife’s camera were stunning me more than the dead body before us. I am assuming it was dead by now because it hadn’t made a noise or moved.

“I… I… I don’t know.” I said. I then looked over to his wife or girlfriend or whoever the rude bitch was flashing that camera non-stop. “Would you stop please with the camera?” I said in a rude-polite way. My head was literally starting to hurt by now.

She stopped and the man spoke, “Ma’am, we’re visiting from Texas and we’ve never seen anything like this before.” For the first time I noticed his thick southern accent.

Tourists. Great, just what I needed right now. Damn tourists taking photographs. Then it dawned on me, no one has offered to call 911 yet. Three people standing here, one taking photos and the other two just staring at the dead body and no one bothering or offering to call 911 or the police. And where were the police anyway. On any given night when walking home, especially here in Downtown, I always see several police on bikes, horse or slowly crawling the street in a car. Where is a cop when you need one?

I picked up my phone and dialed 911 and told the operator what I am looking at. Several minutes later a police car arrived and while it parked, several more arrived. One of the cops asked me if I had witnessed anything. I replied no.

“Did you touch or move the body at all?” He asked.

“No.” I replied.

“Did you see anyone fleeing from the scene?”

“No.”

“Why is there blood on your shoes?”

“I was walking home from the bar and I noticed the red drops on the sidewalk. I thought it was paint until I saw the pool of blood.”

“Where do you live?”

I gave him my I.D. and address. I couldn’t take my eyes away from the dead body. They had rolled the body over on its back and I saw that it was a woman. She appeared to be my age and she had been stabbed numerous times. I heard a police officer tell the detective. Her face and body were covered in blood.

The police officer gave me back my I.D. and asked me to step to the other side of the yellow police tape they were laying out. A different officer was questioning the tourists. I still couldn’t believe that she was taking photos. Well, I probably should believe it and have it not come as a shock to me.

I stood on the other side of the police tape and watched as they looked for evidence on the body and the surrounding areas of the body. The body. She had a name, probably friends, family, maybe even children at home. But, now she was just “the body” for now.

It makes you question your own existence when you see something like in real life. On the news or on television or in the movies, it doesn’t seem real because even though you are close to it visually, emotionally, you are far from it. Until you come face to face with a body that has had its life drained from it.

I wonder how I will meet my demise. The thought had never occurred to me before. I wonder if that dead woman ever thought about her demise before that first stab into her body happened. I have a feeling that thoughts about dying were going through her mind as the knife penetrated her body again and again.

I was done watching the excitement and buzzing around and decided to continue my journey home. I did have to get up early in the morning for work and I am sure all this will be on the news in the morning. I wonder if they will the person or persons that did this. I looked down at the sidewalk once again as I made my way home. “Step on a crack, break you momma’s back.” I kept thinking to myself once again, all the while with the thoughts of that dead girl in the back of my head.

I arrived home and it was almost midnight. I hadn’t realized how much time had gone by me. As I walked up the stairway, I found myself looking behind me and around me. Somehow, I was overcautious out of natural instinct. I knew no one but I was in the stairway, but one can never tell.

I arrived at the top of the stairway and opened the door and walked down the hallway to the door to my small apartment. I was on the top floor of a three story building with no elevator. Yeah, I know it was a pain to move in here carrying my things up three flights of stairs. But, it was the only place I could afford on my own, close to work after I had moved out of my ex-boyfriend’s house.

After putting my key into the lock and turning it, opening the door and then walking inside, I turned the light on. For some reason I was overly cautious. I looked around and everything was quiet. I quickly locked the door behind me and then took my clothes off to take a shower. The hot water felt relaxing against my skin and I almost fell asleep in the shower. Once I was finished, I dried off put on my shorts and tank top and melted into my bed and fell fast asleep.

The next morning I was dead tired when my alarm went off. I must have hit the snooze button several times more than I normally do, because when I opened my eyes, I realized I had twenty minutes to get ready for work and get there. I jumped out of bed and rushed to get ready in five minutes, since it takes me about fifteen minutes to walk to work. I didn’t even bother with breakfast at that point. I figured I would grab some coffee at work.

I was a few minutes late for work. I had walked past the crime scene from last night and the body was gone, but police officers were still there and so was the yellow tape. When arrived in the office, it was dead silent. Everyone was in the conference room. Was there a meeting I didn’t know about? I went into my cubicle and put my purse in my desk and asked Sandy, who sat next to me, what was going on.

“I don’t know. Sarah called an emergency meeting that starts in five minutes.” She whispered.

I hurried to the break room and grabbed myself a cup of coffee and hurried to the conference room where everyone was gathered and whispering to each other. I hope there weren’t going to be any lay-offs. I can afford to be laid off from my job. I knew the company had been struggling, but I didn’t know if we were struggling that bad in order to have lay-offs begin here.

“Okay everyone, please have a seat.” Sarah, our company’s owner and president spoke above everyone. When everyone quieted down and were seated, she continued to speak, “As some of you have heard, Charlene Miller was murdered last night on her way home from having dinner with friends.”

Come to think of it, even though it was hard to make out the face of the woman who was in the alley last night, she did resemble Charlene. Wow!

Sarah continued to speak, “I have been in contact with her family and in lieu of flowers they are accepting donations to help with funeral costs. I have a box here, so if anyone would like to make a donation, the information is on the side of the box on who to make the check out to.” Sarah paused for a moment because she was getting emotional and needed to take a breath. “For those of you who were close to her and those of who weren’t, it is a great loss to us all. Charlene had worked here for almost six years and we will definitely miss her smile and sense of humor. She will be greatly missed.”

Wow! It was Charlene who was killed last night. I would have never guessed. Then I thought to myself again that it could have easily been me. I walked into the break room to refill my cup of coffee and the television was on with the morning news. Everyone in the break had their eyes glued to the set.

“And this morning’s breaking story…” The news reporter began, “Last night at around 10:00 p.m. police found a body of a woman who was stabbed to death in an alley.” They then showed a photo of Charlene smiling, probably one her parents had provided to the police. “Charlene Miller was found stabbed to death after having dinner with friends prior to that. Police report that all dinner guests have been cleared as suspects. When more details come in we will let you know.”

Again, the thought of that could have been me went through my head. I went back to my desk and worked the rest of the day with random thoughts of Charlene coming in and out of my head. I looked several times over at Charlene’s cubicle half expecting to see her smiling and laughing with the other employees. But her cubicle was empty.

When the day was over, I gathered my sweater that I had worn that morning because it was chilly and my purse and left the building. I really needed a drink, so I stopped off at the bar. The buzz around the bar was about the woman who stabbed to death down the street. Rumors were going around that the motivation was theft. Her purse and wallet were never found and police reported that all her jewelry was missing.

There was a stranger at the bar that I had never seen there before. I know all he regulars and he wasn’t one and this exactly wasn’t the type of bar tourists like to come to. No, they liked the ones in the Gaslamp Quarter with all the glitz and glamour, not the rinky dink dive bars like this one. I ordered the usual, which I really didn’t have to order, the bartender know what I always got, so he just said, “The usual?” I nodded.

The stranger wasn’t very friendly and didn’t try to engage in any sort of conversation with me. Which, I actually felt relieved. I really wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone. Charlene’s murder was still on my mind. I never knew anyone who was killed so violently before. I didn’t want to stay too long at the bar tonight, they still hadn’t Charlene’s killer or killers yet and I wasn’t going to take any chances.

The stranger sitting next to me at the bar gave me the chills. There was just something about him that didn’t feel right with me. But, who was I to judge? I’m sure there are many people out in this world who say the same thing about me.

After my last drink, I got up and left. Then I remembered that I needed to use the restroom. So, I used the restroom before I left the bar. When I walked past the stool where I was sitting, the stranger that had been sitting next to me had left. That gave me another reason to get chills. But, I l left the bar anyway to go home.

When I walked out, the streets were filled with cars and the sidewalks had people walking on them and I didn’t see the stranger anywhere, so proceeded to head home. I was just probably being paranoid anyway. I walked slowly past the alley where Charlene was killed. The tattered yellow tape was still there, some of had come untapped and was flapping in the light wind that had taken up as the sun set.

I went into my building and up the stairway, down the hall towards my apartment. Then I saw him. The stranger. The one who had been sitting in the bar next to me. I froze. All the suspicions I had before were tripled. My red flags went up and I was frozen solid. My legs wouldn’t move. I was paralyzed with fear.

He hadn’t seen me yet and he walked to the door next to mine and knocked on it. Mrs. James, the elderly old lady who lived next door, opened the door! Oh no! I thought to myself! He was going to kill her! My imagination had gotten the best of me because when she had opened the door, she let out loud yell. “Marvin! You made it!” She then threw her arms around the stranger, although he wasn’t a stranger anymore, his name was Marvin and Mrs. James knew him.

She then looked at me and said, “Come over here and meet my son!” Her son? Ohhhh, her son! I thought to myself relieved. I let out a deep breath and walked over to them as she introduced us. We exchanged pleasantries and I proceeded to my door, put the key into the lock and turned the door handle. But the door didn’t unlock, it locked. As if it was unlocked already and I had locked it. Why would my door be unlocked? Even though I had been in a hurry that morning, I know I locked it. I always lock my door, no matter what.

I cautiously stepped inside and turned the light switch on. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Maybe I just forgot to lock the… “Ugh!” I suddenly felt a hand across my mouth with a towel and I soon passed out.

When I came to, I was sitting in my dining room chair with my hands tied behind my back. My mouth had tape over it, more than like so I wouldn’t scream. My eyes were blurry at first, but when they began to focus, I noticed it was my neighbor who lived on the other side of me. Douglas.

Douglas had been living in his apartment before I had moved into my own apartment in the building. He was quiet and kept to himself most of the time. No one really knew anything about him at all. Well, now I knew something just a little more than the other tenants knew about Douglas in my apartment building.

Douglas was pacing the floor and finally he spoke up, “I know who killed that girl last night.” He informed me. Well, it was obvious now I knew too and he was going to kill me as well. He stopped and looked straight at me as if to read my thoughts. “It wasn’t me. I didn’t kill her.” He said staring point blank at me. “It was Mrs. James’ son. I saw him do it.”

I was so confused at this point not only from what Douglas was saying but because of the chloroform that had been placed over my face earlier had made me a bit dizzy and I was tied to this chair.

“You see,” He continued “I was in that ally last night claiming another homeless victim, they haven’t found him yet, they were too focused on that girl.” He continued to stare at me in my scared eyes. “I saw Mrs. James’ son grabbed that girl and pull her into the ally and rape her at knife point and murder her. But, I can’t tell the police that I saw that happen because ten they would wonder why I was in the ally myself. No, no…I am much smarter than that.”

“Mmm… ugh…” I tried to tell him to untie me ad take the tape off my mouth. I wondered why he did all this to me.

“You’re probably wondering why I have you tied up in here like this. I followed Mrs. James’ son from the bar tonight and he doesn’t know that I saw him. As I came up the hallway, Mrs. James introduced us and that is when I knew I had to come into your apartment and let you know that you could be in danger as well. I had to tie you up like this and tape your mouth. I didn’t want you screaming or making any noise to draw attention over here.” He then walked over to me. “I will untie you and take the tape off, if you promise you won’t yell or try to run. I really need your help.”

“Mhm.” I replied as best as I could by nodding mu head as well. I just didn’t like being bound like this.

Douglas untied me and let me pull the tape off my mouth myself showing that he didn’t want to hurt me in any way. I actually believed him and trusted him, even though he just confessed to me that he was the one killing the homeless people down here in the city.

“Feel better now?” He asked me.

“Yeah, thanks.” Even though I did believe what he was saying, I wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“We need to catch him in the act so he can be arrested.” Douglas informed me. “This is what I planned on doing…”

He then told me of his plan and I thought it was a great idea, so I decided to go along with it. Douglas slept on my sofa in case Mrs. James’ son tried anything like breaking into my apartment or something.

The next morning, I got ready for and went to work as I usually do. I was a few minutes early this morning. I went through the day, but everyone was still in shock over Charlene’s murder. I went to lunch the girls from the office and the whole time we talked about Charlene and the things she had said and done over the years. Some of the other girls from the office were close to her and had known her longer than I had. When lunch was over we went back to work and I finished out my day.

I stopped off at the bar as always and Mrs. James’ son was sitting in the same spot as he was the night before. I sat next to him and ordered my usual. I smiled at him because I didn’t want to be rude. After all, we had been properly introduced by his mother. “How are you tonight?” I asked him politely.

“Pretty good, thank you.” He replied. “How about yourself?” He asked me back.

“I’ve seen better days, but I can’t complain.” I replied. We both had a chuckle.

I had my two drinks and told the bartender goodbye. I decided to stop off at the restroom like I always do before walking home. Nothing worse than climbing three flights of stairs with a full bladder. When I came out of the restroom, Mrs. James’ son was gone.

I said goodbye to the bartender and to some of the other regulars that I have spoken to on occasion and walked out the bar door onto the sidewalk into the cool night air. As I was approaching the ally that was before the one Charlene was murdered in, I felt an eeriness. Suddenly, I felt someone grab me and pull me into the ally, they had a ski mask on.

“Scream or yell and I kill you now.” The masked man said in a deep and gruff voice. I wasn’t sure who it was, but I knew it was a male by his voice. He held a knife at my throat and was on top of me. “You can make this easy or you can make this hard. That is up to you.” He undid my slacks that I was wearing and pulled them down around my ankles. He then grabbed my panties and ripped them off. I am sure he tossed them somewhere, he wasn’t too worried about where they had landed.

I felt a surge of fear come over me when I realized what was happening and about to happen to me. I was going to be a rape victim! I didn’t want to struggle for fear of him stabbing me with the knife he held, either by accident or on purpose. I couldn’t scream for fear he might kill me. All I could do was hope that a passerby would see us, but I knew that wouldn’t be possible. He had pulled me deep into the ally where it was dark.

I heard some trash cans rattling and I was hoping that maybe it was a homeless person looking for food and saw what was happening. But my hopes were dashed when I realized it was a couple of alley cats that began to fight with each other. The irony of it was that it was a male cat trying to have sex with a female cat and she was putting up a fight. Probably a better one than I was I bet.

Two potential rapes in one alley. How ironic is that? I found myself getting lost in my own thoughts when suddenly the man on top of me went limp. No, not his male part, I mean his whole body. Then someone rolled him off of me. It was too dark to make out who it was, but a street light lit up his face, it was Douglas!

The knife went flying to one side and Douglas and Mrs. James’ son were soon in a scuffle. I didn’t know where my panties were, but I was able to pull up my pants. My purse was nowhere to be found, which had my cell phone in it.

I was afraid to get in between the two because I didn’t know who had what type of weapons on them and if they had them in their possession. I just stood against the building watching them struggle with each other. People walked by, but we were so deep into the alley they didn’t see what was happening and no one really looks down a dark alley.

I wasn’t sure what to do at this point. The alley was narrow and if I tried to move more than likely I would get drawn in between the two men. The cats that had been going at it earlier, had now stopped. The two men were blocking the alley entrance with their fighting. I really wanted to go get some help, but I could get out of the alley without the fear of being harmed.

Finally, I saw one of the male shadows fall to the floor. I wasn’t sure which one it was, it was so dark. The one left standing started walking towards me. I felt myself trembling, not out of fear, but wondering if I remembered my karate moves that I learned when I had taken those defense courses several years ago.

Before I had a chance to test them, it was Douglas’ voice. “It’s okay, it’s me.” He said. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” I replied. “What took you so long though? I really thought he was going to rape me.”

I was at the next alley and realized that it had been too long since you had sent me that text message that you were leaving. So, I backtracked and saw you in this alley instead. I’m sorry.” He said with a frown on his face.

“It’s okay. You just had me worried for a minute. I didn’t expect you two to get into a fight like that.” I said.

Suddenly, I saw a dark shadow coming at Douglas, I reached down and quickly grabbed the knife that had been thrown from Mrs. James’ son hand. Douglas had a puzzled look on his face, but then understood immediately when I lunged toward Mrs. James’ son and stabbed him in the stomach.

He fell to the ground in a ball with blood streaming from his stomach. “Now it was my time to save you.” I said to Douglas. He had turned around just in time to see me defend us.

“Wow! Thank you.” He said. Douglas pulled out a small flashlight and was searching the ground. “There’s your purse over there.” He said and went and got it for me and handed it to me. “Call 911.”

I took my purse from Douglas and found my cell phone inside and pulled it out and called 911. I explained to them what had happened and that my assailant was on the ground bleeding because I had stabbed him. Douglas left, he knew that the police would ask him questions and since I was holding the knife in my hand with the blood dripping and all over my hands, the police would just look at it as self-defense.

Soon, I heard the sirens coming up the street. Douglas was long gone. When the police arrived I handed them the bloody knife. They were a bit surprised that I was so calm considering that I had almost been raped and that I was attacked and that I had stabbed a man who was now being taken away in an ambulance.

After taking my report, I asked them if I could find my panties that were ripped off of me. The police said that they would find them and use them as part of the evidence that I was attacked and almost raped.

I had a police officer hen walk me home and made sure I was all right before he left. I was better than all right. I was at peace. I filled my bathtub with hot water and soaked it for a while. I suppose most women would be in shock right now, but then again, I’m not most women.

Several days later I heard on the news that the knife I had stabbed Mrs. James’ son in the stomach with, was the same knife that he had killed Charlene with. He was also wanted in several other states for the same crimes, the knife linking him to all of the crimes.

Two days after the news ran their story, he died by the same knife that he had used to take so many lives before. I wasn’t charged with anything, because it was clearly self-defense. In fact, I was being called a heroine for taking such a horrific criminal off the streets. Me, a heroine? I had to laugh out loud to myself on that one.

My boss had heard what happened and called me and told me to take some time off with pay. She was happy that I was okay and that I didn’t end up like Charlene, she was also happy that I had avenged Charlene’s death by killing her assailant.

Flowers came in by the dozens to my apartment from well-wishers and co-workers and other tenants in my building. Mrs. James had suffered a heart attack when she had heard the news of her son. She passed away immediately.

A week had gone by and the flowers had stopped coming in, which was a good thing because my apartment was small enough. I was about ready to make myself some dinner and there was a knock at the door. I opened it and it was Douglas. He was holding a dozen red roses. I let him inside.

“Well, it’s nice to be invited inside this time instead of breaking in.” He laughed out loud as he handed the roses to me.

“Well, thank you.” I said, “They are beautiful.”

“I was wondering if you would like to go out to dinner with me tonight?” He asked. Douglas was wearing a dress shirt with blue jeans and was clean shaven.

I thought about it for a moment and replied, “You know, I haven’t been out to dinner with a man in quite some time. I would love to.”

After all that had happened, I was actually starting to feel normal once again. I was just a normal girl in a normal world. Well, according to today’s standards, it was normal. After all, what is normal anyway?