1975 words (7 minute read)

Alienated


Sam left the library in a fog as she headed back to her apartment. It was dark out now, the street lights began to pop on throughout the city—illuminating the wet, glistening pavement. Her footsteps echoed through the street, with each soggy step she made. The flats she had thrown on in her hurried state had turned out to be a huge mistake, her feet were frozen now— as they sloshed around in slippery flats.


She turn down an alley way— consumed in her thoughts—unable to remember a single woman in a city, walking at night, should never venture into alley ways, or cross streets alone.


It smelled like urine, as she past by garbage bins, and trash that had been carelessly thrown about. A clattering sound rang out against the two buildings as she looked up the alley further to see a cat sprint off and out of view—breaking her concentration.


Suddenly as she looked up, she had a creeping suspicion that it had been a very bad idea to try and take the short cut back to her place.


Three men stepped out from behind a dumpster, two stood blocking her way, the third was behind her, making sure she didn’t escape.


"Well, well—what do we have here." Said the first man, "What a pretty little thing she is." He grinned.


He smelled terrible—as Sam put her hand up to cover her nose—obviously he hadn’t washed in years. She started to back away from them but was grabbed from behind, her arms were forced behind her back. Her keys left her hand, dropping on the ground with a clink.


She started to scream for help, but before she could so much as get the H out a grubby hand was slapped across her mouth.


"Hush now darling, it’s late after all—we wouldn’t want to disturb anyone."


"Heh, heh, heh—you tell her Mac." The little guy said.


"Shut it, Rat" The man holding her spat.


"Fuck you Tony, you don’t have to be such a dick!" Rat hollered.


"Shut up, the both of you. Can’t you see you’re scaring the poor girl?" Mac’s voice was calm, and he had a wicked gleam in his eye when he looked at her. He clicked his tongue as he walked in front of her, running a dirty finger up her arm—stopping before touching the stinging flesh around her shoulder and neck, "Woo wee, looks like someone likes it rough." He laughed, exposing her to the foulness of his breath, and his rotting teeth as they protruded out of his thin, cracked lips.


She tried to say something but her voice was muffled by Tony, as he kept his hand clamped over her mouth. "Let her speak, man!" Mac said, pushing Tony’s hand out of the way.


Finally able to talk, she opened her mouth again to say, "I have nothing on me, no wallet, no purse—nothing," She pleaded, "Just let me go."


"But you got them keys there," His eyes gestured to the keys that had fallen on the ground next to her feet, "I bet you got a wallet or a purse at home. Plus you got something else we might want—" Again his eyes gestured, as they moved down her body. Her thin white dress proved unsuitable attire for the chilly November air, as it swept through the alley and caused the hem of her dress to dance around up past her knees, giving the slightest hint of a lean, creamy, thigh.


The two men began to laugh with low guttural chuckles as Mac’s hand reached out to caress her leg. Again she tried scream, but Tony threw his hand back over her mouth as he stilled her body against him—helping his vile comrade in his assault.


"Hey guys! There’s something back here—something’s moving!" Rat called out from his lookout spot at the end of the alley way.


"Will you shut the fuck—what the hell is that!" Mac stopped what he was doing.


"What the fuck is that?—" Suddenly Tony released her, as the three men fled the scene, leaving her shaken and afraid on the wet, dirty pavement. She could hear their frantic footsteps as they splashed in and out of puddles, before they faded away down the street.


She let out a blood curdling cry, as she panned her eyes around the dark street—looking for anyone who could help her. She gathered herself up, wiping at the mud and dirt that now stained her clean white dress as she stooped to pick up her keys off the ground.


When she got back to her apartment, her heart rate still wouldn’t slow. She thought for a moment about calling the police but remembered her experience with them the day before.


So she opted to sit in the living room chair in the dark, to shake and cry about the horrible thing that had just happened to her. When she thought she couldn’t cry anymore, she got up, her legs were wobbly since the adrenaline had worn off but she wanted nothing more than to get into the shower, and burn off the stench that covered her— with hot water.


"Please—" She said out loud, as she stumbled to find the light switch, "Please let there be power,"


Her hand settled on the switch, clicking it on, the room was suddenly bright again. "Oh there is a God." She cried, as she slumped into the bathroom.


She felt so much better after her shower. She found her phone in her purse that sat on the kitchen counter to text Jack to see if he was still awake. She peaked through her open door on the other side of the living room to see 1:30 am in bright obnoxious red numbers on her digital clock before opening up her messaging app and selecting Jack’s name.


Her fingers glided over the keyboard on her phone screen, ’You awake?’ She typed, before setting the phone down on the counter top.


A few moments went by before she heard the vibration against the hard surface. She picked up her phone again, ’Whats up?’ it read.


’I got attacked 2nite in the alley way by my building’ She held her phone in her hand for a moment, before it began to ring. Click.


"Hello?" She answered.


"You got attacked?" Jacks voice on the other end sounded groggy, "What happened?"


"Sorry, I woke you—"


"Never mind about that Sammy, what happened?" He sounded more awake now.


"I went to the library after you left, and I guess I lost track of time—by the time I left it had gotten dark. So not thinking, I cut through the alleyway off of Broadway trying to get home faster. Then these three guys popped out of nowhere and held me up—"


"Then what the fuck happened? Did they hurt you?"


"I don’t know, they freaked out and took off—like something was chasing them but I didn’t see anything."


"Did they hurt you?" He repeated.


"They would have, but like I said, they took off."


"Shit Sammy, you want me to come over?"


"No, I just needed to tell someone—since I don’t feel like I can call the cops anymore."


"Okay, did your power get back on?"


"Yeah, thanks by the way—"


"No problem, well—get some sleep if you can, I’ll stop by in the morning or something."


"Alright, goodnight."


"Goodnight, Sam."


Click.


She set her phone back down on the counter and walked into the living room.


She laid down on the couch to watch some television, maybe it would calm her—and she knew sure as shit she wasn’t going to turn off the lights tonight, so she left them alone.


Of course because of the late hour nothing was on, except infomercials. She flipped through the channels of her basic cable plan, which was a total rip off she hated paying for but felt like it was a necessity to combat her sometimes inevitable boredom. She finally settled on an episode of I Love Lucy. She watched it for a bit, but every time the show went to commercial, memories kept flashing into her head of gross hands and yellow rotten teeth. Soon enough, she passed out, exhausted from the ordeal.

****

"Samantha—,"


Sam opened her eyes to find herself in the exact same spot she had been the night before, frozen in front of a giant, black fireplace. It’s flames kissing the dark brick that encased it, in the act of moving and dancing— as if it were mocking her.


Then like a song, her name was called to her again, "Samantha,"


The tranquil voice came from behind her, and again she couldn’t move to see who it— or what it belonged to.


Suddenly the clicking of shoes could be heard on the marble, as the footsteps turned to a muffle she knew they were on the fur rug under her feet—and right behind her as she felt two hands reach out and grab on to her arms.


The voice was in her ear now, as she felt the skin of someone’s cheek right against hers. The masculine voice calling out to her, "Samantha," and still she could not see him, still she could not move.


"I know who you are," She whispered.


She felt his laugh reverberate off her cheek, "And who am I?" He asked.


"Zagan," Her voice could barely be heard, as she shook in his arms.


"I’m a piece on a chess board my dear, same as you." He whispered back to her.


"I want to wake up now," She cried— His hands remained rested on her arms, holding them to her side as she continued to stand in front of the fireplace, her skin burned where he touch her.


"So wake up," He called.

****


She awoke with a start, falling off the couch—the loud thud of her body hitting the floor, shaking her apartment, and surely waking up her neighbor below her. The audience on I Love Lucy roared in laughter as she stuffed chocolate after chocolate in her mouth. Sam’s heart pounded in her ears, as her eyes focused in on the television and she was sure, she’d never get another decent nights sleep again.


Next Chapter: Delusions