Together we tiptoed into the alleyway.
A sharp metallic clang made both of us jump.
Jack had accidentally kicked a tin can that he hadn’t noticed.
The person sleeping on the ground woke up instantly.
It was a woman.
Her face was badly bruised. One eye was black, and there were cuts and marks across her cheeks. She blinked rapidly. When she saw Jack standing there with the bat in his raised hands, her lips began trembling. She scrambled to her feet, holding her hands out in front of her as if trying to shield herself. “Please, no hit! I sorry. Please no hit.”
Her voice broke my heart.
Jack immediately lowered his hands and placed the bat aside.
“I’m not going to hurt you. We are not going to hurt you,” I said gently.
She began backing away nervously as I slowly stepped toward her. I glanced briefly at Jack before looking back at her.
“I just want to know if you’re okay and if I can help you.”
Her eyes widened even more, and she shook her head violently.
“Can I take you to the hospital or a doctor and get you checked up?”
She shook her head again. “I go. I’m sorry. I go.” She grabbed a small bag lying beside her and began limping away.
I looked helplessly at Jack.
He simply shook his head.
I knew that Jack had not known me very long, but he knew me well enough to understand that I would not just walk away from someone who needed help. “Let me take you to the doctor at least,” I called after her.
She shook her head again.
I gently touched her shoulder. “I promise you, I won’t hurt you. You’re safe with me.”
Something in my voice must have reached her. Because the next moment, she collapsed onto the ground and burst into tears. I dropped down beside her and wrapped my arms around her, holding her tightly as she cried.
Jack stood nearby awkwardly, unsure what to do.
Still hugging the trembling woman, I said, “I wish we could stay here a little longer, but there are going to be renovation crews coming in soon. Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable.”
She nodded weakly and wiped her tears.
Jack picked up her bag and placed it in my car. Then he followed us back to my house.
During the drive, I tried to make conversation, but I was not sure if she understood English well enough to respond.
“My name... Geeta Namati,” she said slowly. “I from Nepal.” Her voice was shaky. “I come here and work as maid. I work in Port Renfrew with Indian family.” She sniffled and wiped her face. “After two years, I asked for salary to send money home. Madam and Sir beat me.” Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. “They threw me out of house. I got money from friend and got into bus. Bus dropped me here at night. Nowhere to go. I slept here and thought morning I go to Vancouver. Cousin’s house there. He help me go back home.”
Anger coiled tight inside my chest.
“Let’s go to the police,” I urged her. “You can file a report. You can get your money back, and they can be put in jail for what they’ve done to you.”
“No... no police,” she said quickly, squeezing her eyes shut. “I go cousin place. I no want money. They no give me my work papers. They burn it.”
Understanding washed over me instantly.
