In my entire nineteen years of existence, I have never been put into a situation where I was convinced I was going to die; until now.
After finishing off the night shift at the radio station, I had decided to take a shortcut home instead of the long way because Lazy Alexa had a habit of appearing late at night. Instead of walking straight through the busy, populated downtown core, I opted for an extremely dark, deserted alleyway that basically screamed dangerous. But I had been desperate to get home and snuggle into bed. And I’d do anything for sleep.
So, because of that, I find myself currently cornered against an old fence with three tall, built men towering over me, guns pointed at my face.
“You can have my purse, there’s money in there or my cell phone or whatever, just please don’t kill me.” I plead as calmly as I can, pretending the situation doesn’t scare the shit out of me.
One of the men comes closer, the moonlight reflecting off of his bald head. I probably would’ve laughed had he not had a weapon raised to kill me.
“You know what,” he breathes in my face, “We don’t want your money. We want something else.”
“My cell phone?!” I suggest in a high-pitched voice. The only other option I can think of turns my stomach inside-out.
“Nah. Take off your shirt,” he says matter-of-factly. He tucks his gun into his jacket pocket and his friends do the same. I stand there, frozen and they look at me expectantly.
“I really don’t think my shirt will fit you.”
My wit never fails to come through during near-death situations.
“Bitch, I said, take off your shirt!” the bald man screams, slamming a fist into the fence behind me. The fence wobbles and my knees do the same.
“Sorry, I’m sorry…” I mumble, dropping my bag on the ground hurriedly and removing my jacket. The freezing December air seeps through my button-up and nips at my skin, causing goose bumps to sprout on almost every part of my body. I pause for a moment, realizing that this is really about to happen and that I am completely terrified out of my mind.
“What’s taking so long?” one of the men with a full head of hair asks. I squint to try to see his face but it’s pitch black out here. There’s no way I’ll ever recognize him if I make it out alive.
I fumble with the top button, my shaking hands making it extremely difficult for me to get a grip. To my horror, as I hit halfway, the bald man moves forward and rips the rest of it open. I flinch, cowering against the fence as he pulls the sleeves down my arms aggressively. Now being clad in only my navy blue bra and jeans, I hug my arms to my chest to preserve what little warmth I have left. My entire body trembles.
“Let’s do the rest, boys.”
“N-n-o,” my teeth chatter, partly with fear and partly with frigidity, “I’ll be faster, I s-s-wear.”
“Nah, babe. This is the fun part,” the bald man seethes. I swear he winks at me and my blood runs cold.
The three men advance forward and I squeeze my eyes shut out of instinct and fear. I can feel their hands all over my legs, eventually finding their way to the button of my jeans and undoing them. I stifle back a whimper as I hear the zipper being pulled down.
All of a sudden, the hands stop. Too afraid to look, I keep my eyes closed and rely on my ears to tell me what’s going on. I hear an awful amount of scuffling and yelling and I assume there’s been some argument among the three men. I seize the opportunity and zip up my pants hastily. I finally open my eyes.
My heart stops as I realize there are now four men in front of me, a big jumble of flying fists and legs. The new addition is wearing what looks like all black spandex, complete with something similar to a masquerade mask to shield his face. It takes me a few seconds to realize that this man is fighting all three of the scumbags on his own, blocking punches and sending roundhouse kicks to whatever body parts he can hit. He nails one of them in the groin and the criminal crumbles to the ground, moaning.
“Put your shirt on!” the masked stranger orders while elbowing the bald guy in the face. His voice snaps me back to reality and I immediately button up my shirt. I then zip up my jacket, the warmth slowly beginning to take over. I grab my bag and start to stumble away from the scene, tears beginning to stain my cheeks.
“Hey, wait a second!”
I’m not stupid. I ignore the man’s voice and keep running. Even if it’s the man who saved me, I’m not sure I can trust him either. Maybe he wanted me all for himself and needed to get the others out of the way; I’m not sticking around to find out.
I realize too late that he’s chasing after me and just as I start to pick up the pace, a hand grips the back of my jacket. I let out a piercing scream and begin to thrash, the stranger struggling to keep a hold on me.
“Hey, stop, I’m not-” he starts and I realize it’s the man with the weird mask. I continue to wriggle and scream for help, his grip now on both of my wrists.
“Hey, look!” he tries to grab my attention. We stand under a street lamp, its glow illuminating a small circle around us. Our eyes lock and he squeezes my hands reassuringly. He leans in closer to me, his face merely inches from mine. His mask only covers the area around his eyes, leaving the rest of his features exposed.
“I know you’re scared but you can trust me. I promise,” he almost pleads, his gaze wildly searching my face. His thick English accent seems to have a soothing effect.
I take a few shaky breaths and focus on holding eye contact, memorizing the colour of his eyes. Under the vivid light of the lamp, his pupils contract slowly, taking a few seconds to readjust. The bright green of his irises overpowers the rest of his features, flecks of yellow circling the outer edge. The intensity takes me by surprise.
“You have really pretty eyes,” I mumble without thinking, mesmerized.
I see his lip twitch faintly, evidence that he’s struggling to hold back a smile, “I think you’re still in shock.”
“Nope,” I say confidently, lost in the green, green, green of his gaze, “Definitely pretty.”
He’s unable to contain himself this time, a slight chuckle escaping his mouth. He shakes his head and looks away, “I really need to get you home.”
The loss of eye contact leaves me disappointed for some reason. I shiver involuntarily, the movement reverberating through our conjoined hands. His attention snaps back to me and I can breathe again.
“You’re freezing,” he says quietly, his right hand moving up to gently cup my cheek. The warmth makes my spine tingle with a different sensation that I can’t quite place.
In the blink of an eye, my legs are swooped out from underneath me, firm hands now supporting my back and the crick between my knees. My arms automatically rest around the stranger’s neck comfortably, my purse dangling precariously below me. I shift it onto my lap.
He looks down at me, a little smile appearing on his lips, “Where to?”
“Umm…97 Gilwood but it’s pretty far-”
“Alright, hold on tight.”
Before I can protest something ridiculous about how much I weigh, he takes off into a full sprint, his grip rigid and concrete. Startled a little, I huddle closer into his chest. My surroundings are a blur in every direction, the sensation becoming dizzying. I glance up at the man with wide eyes to find him staring straight ahead, focused and determined. His curly hair bounces and blows with the wind.
Even though it should be the most uncomfortable situation in the world, I find myself dozing off. My eyelids droop further with every second, the cold breeze beginning to have no effect on my body. I rest my head on his shoulder, using his sturdy frame as a pillow.
I am asleep in an instant.
~
a.n. - so yea harry's a superhero wey hey, update coming tomorrow :)
emily x.
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Heroism (h.s.)
Fanfiction"A hero is someone who has given his or her life to something bigger than oneself." - Joseph Churchill. After a frightening incident on her way home from work, Alexa Mackie is left with more questions than answers. A mysterious stranger in black sa...
