Page 51 of Shamed
A rustling sound has me swinging my head in one direction, then something clattering has me snapping my head the other way. Each tiny sound lifts my shoulders higher and higher.
I’m fine once I’m on the bus, but then I’m back to feeling paranoid the second I get off again.
I’ve done this trip home in the early hours of the morning hundreds of times, and while it never gets easier, I usually have my ball cap on. In my haste to leave, I left it on my vanity, along with my umbrella.
At least the rain has stopped for now, but the cold, damp air seeps through my hoodie and jacket, right through to my bones. I hug my bag tighter, picking up speed. Only a few more minutes until I make it home, where I can defrost in a hot shower and hopefully loosen some muscles.
I turn the corner onto my block, but instead of the relief I’d hoped for at the sight of my building coming into view, dread fills the space instead.
At least five men are standing around, smoking in front of the cannabis store below my apartment, blocking the path I usually take.
While my heart speeds up, I slow my steps, glancing around as if another wary person might appear nearby to walk me to my door. Sirens wail from some distant place, a shout echoes from somewhere too close. But besides the men, this street is empty, of course. Just me and them.
For some reason, Mase’s offer to give me a free self-defense lesson comes to mind.
Would I feel so helpless in a situation like this if I felt like I could defend myself? Not that I think I could fight off five men, but still.
Maybe I should just wait here until they leave. But who knows how long they’ll stay. What if it’s an hour or longer? What if they come this way while I’m standing here? What if more people come from the other direction?
If I switch to the other side of the street, then I don’t have to walk through them, and I can cross back over once I’m past them and run up my stairs on the other side of the building.
Decision made, I adjust my hood and rush across the street before I’m close enough for them to notice.
I keep my head down as I walk parallel to where they’re standing, trying not to speed walk so as not to draw their attention. Once I know I’ve passed them, I start crossing the street again, glancing toward the group to see if any of them have moved or if I have any unwanted eyes on me.
Unfortunately, my feet stutter, and I end up tripping over air when I see the same stringy blond hair swept across a bald head amongst the group.
At the sound of my accidental shriek from tumbling, they all turn to look directly at me.
The trip caused my hood to fall back, so now they can clearly see I’m a woman. A woman alone and unprotected, in the dark.
My eyes widen, fear turning my limbs to mush as I lock onto the slowly forming creepy smile of the man in question. My pulse starts thumping in my ears and sweat immediately breaks out on my skin.
The handsy guy takes a step forward. “Hey,” he calls out. “It’s the same bitch from the club.”
I make a run for the stairs, hearing the man tell the others how I got him kicked out for no fucking reason. He calls out to me again, but I run faster.
The stairs creak beneath my feet as I clamber to the top. I hear one or maybe even all of them close in along the path below as I fumble with my key, trying to open my door.
I grow more desperate with each second that passes, almost dropping my key several times, but then I finally get it into the lock and manage to turn it.
I burst through the door, slamming it shut behind me, and spinning around to lock it.
My breaths are labored as I face the door, hearing someone on the creaky steps.
“Knock, knock,” they taunt. I recognize the handsy man’s voice.
I step backward, keeping my eyes pinned to the handle. This whole apartment is old and falling apart, but the locks should hold.
I hope.
Not wanting to risk it, I quickly grab a chair and jam it under the door handle.
“Hey, girly. Why don’t ya let me in? We can . . . chat.”
A laugh, then a whack on the door that makes me jump and let out a squeal.
I barely blink, certain that if I look away, the door will fling open and he’ll charge in. Tears start to gather in my eyes, my shoulders curling inward.
