Page 45 of Antihero

“Maybe find some other clothes to warm up. Put the dress and your shoe in a bag.”

“A bag?”

“Like a grocery bag.”

This time she was gone for longer.

And then: “I have on a sweater. And a wool skirt. And my trench coat. And boots.”

“Are you still cold?”

“Yes. So cold. I need … I need to shower.”

“You might … You might consider not doing that right now.”

“Why not?”

“In case you decide to do a rape kit.” The harshness of the term landed bruisingly, even on his own ears. “Forensics, I mean.”

“For what?”

He pictured that entry in Osman’s phone, YngTl69, who’d sublet the basement apartment in which she’d been raped. “To help catch those who did this to you.”

“This is the world,” she said. “Sin and separation. This is just the world.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“I don’t need a kit. I don’t need to catch anyone. Those who did this to me, they will answer.”

He was confused. “How?”

“In the only way that matters.”

He chewed his lower lip and sat with that a moment. “Either way you might reconsider going to the hospital. You can decide there what you want to do. And what you don’t want to do.”

Silence.

“I can call an ambulance.”

“No ambulance,” she said. “I can’t afford an ambulance.”

“I can pay for it.”

“No,” she said. “Thank you. But no.”

“A taxi.”

Sudden impatience: “Who are you?”

“Evan. My name is Evan.”

“That’s not what I’m asking. Why are you…? How did you find me?”

“A young woman from the subway saw what happened to you.”

Long pause. “Miniskirt. Gentle eyes.”

“Yes. She told a … someone and they told me. An associate tracked you through surveillance cameras. And I followed the trail.”