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The buildings here bore the scars of time, their faded facades telling stories of a different era that was well past its prime. Tattered posters adorned crumbling walls, advertising shows and events long gone, relics of a bygone era. I passed by boarded-up storefronts and alleys. The scent of desperation hung heavy in the air, intermingling with the acrid tang of stale cigarettes, and the sour odor of urine.
Groups of men congregated on street corners, exchanging hushed conversations. Some of them exchanged money. Others smoked together in silence, sitting on the curb and talking in low tones to themselves, but I could feel their eyes on me as I wandered further, trying to figure out how to backtrack when I hadn’t really paid attention to the route I’d taken in the first place.
They knew I didn’t belong here.
I passed a dimly lit dive bar that went by the name Serpent’s Den. The exterior was as unassuming as it was foreboding. Weathered bricks, once a vibrant red, had succumbed to years of neglect, their surfaces now worn and cracked. A flickering sign cast a sickly green pallor over the entrance. It was missing a letter or two.
I walked a bit faster, reaching into my pocket and pulling out my phone. Maybe this was a bad idea. I could use my maps app to find my way out, or I could call an Uber, but either option meant I was in this part of town for far longer than I wanted to be.
I decided against the latter, so I plugged in one of the casinos at the north end of the strip.
It was then that a group of men spotted me, much to my dismay. Their boisterous laughter echoed through the streets.
“Hey there, beautiful!” one of them called out, his words dripping with crude familiarity. “Why don’t you come over here and show us a good time?”
“Sorry, not interested,” I replied tersely, my voice laced with a mix of irritation and defiance. I quickened my pace, my footsteps echoing in the stillness of the night. Their laughter persisted, taunting me as I walked away.
“Come on, sweetheart,” one of them slurred, his voice laced with an unsettling mix of arrogance and insinuation. “Bring those pretty tits over here!”
I clenched my jaw, trying to ignore their vulgar advances and maintain my determined stride.
“I have better things to do,” I retorted, my voice carrying a tone of disgust as I sought to distance myself from their predatory advances.
As I continued to walk, their crude catcalls faded into the distance, and I thought I had escaped their clutches. However, it soon became evident that one of them had other intentions. I sensed a shadow lurking behind me, its presence far too close for comfort. The footsteps grew closer, quicker, and my heart began to race.
I looked back over my shoulder and gulped when I saw the man following me. What met my gaze was a disheveled figure, his unkempt appearance sending shivers down my spine. His clothes were tattered and dirty, clinging to his slightly overweight frame, and a greasy sheen glistened on his unwashed face. His eyes, filled with a disturbing mixture of desperation and malevolence, bored into mine with a predatory intensity that sent a surge of fear coursing through me.
I started to run, but despite everything I tried, he closed the gap between us in an embarrassingly short amount of time. I ran harder and faster than I ever had in my life, yet he still caught up to me in minutes.
Without warning, the man lunged towards me, grabbing my arm in a vice-like grip and pulling me into a nearby dark alley. His fingers dug into me so roughly that I was certain he’d leave a bruise, and I cried out, pulling away from him as desperately as I could.
Panic surged through me as I struggled to break free, but my assailant was so much stronger that it was like fighting a bear. His hand gripped even tighter, and I bit my lip, trying to quiet my cry as he slammed me against the brick wall of an abandoned building. The air burst free of my lungs, and I whimpered. It felt like the rough stone had torn through my shirt. He pushed me against the brick, a sinister smile gracing his lips as he exposed his tarter ridden teeth.
My insides quivered with fear.
“I called you beautiful. You should say thank you,” he snarled, and small droplets of spittle splashed across my face. I had to stop myself from recoiling in disgust, but only just. His foul odor, a pungent blend of dirt, sweat, and cheap cologne, filled my senses, causing bile to rise in my throat. The rancid smell of his breath was nauseating, a noxious mixture of stale alcohol and rotten food that made my stomach churn.
My heart pounded in terror as he pawed at me, his grimy hands leaving a trail of revulsion in their wake. I attempted to pacify him, my voice shaking with desperation.
“Please, just let me go,” I pleaded, my words a trembling plea for mercy.
“You walked into the wrong part of town, sweetheart,” he leered, his grip tightening. “And now you’re gonna pay for it.”
“I won’t tell anyone, I promise. Just… just let me leave, and you’ll never see me again,” I pleaded, my voice quivering, but my words fell on deaf ears, and his intentions grew more menacing with every passing moment.
His body caged me in against the wall as his hand wrapped around my throat, squeezing so tight that there was sure to be marks left behind. He leaned in close, assaulting me with the rancid scent of his breath. As his grip tightened, the sensation became increasingly suffocating, a cold, relentless pressure that threatened to cut off my ability to breathe.
“You’re not going anywhere, darlin, not dressed like that,” he sneered. His gaze dipped down to explore the rest of me, ogling my breasts and the swell of my hips.
I was wearing a simple black V-neck T-shirt and a pair of well-worn denim jeans. The V-neck of the shirt revealed a hint of my cleavage, a detail I hadn’t given much thought to when I dressed for the evening. The jeans, faded with age and molded to the curves of my body, clung to my legs.
“You’re far too pretty for this side of town,” he mused, and I was forced to swallow the bile that rose unbidden at the back of my throat.
He reached for my collarbone, trailing his fingers along the neckline of my shirt. The feel of his grimy fingers against my skin was a horrifying sensation that sent shivers of revulsion through me. The pads of his fingers were rough and calloused, feeling like a cat’s tongue against my flesh.
Stupid. Now you’re either going to get robbed or raped because you were dumb enough to walk straight into the most dangerous part of town.
I swallowed heavily, trembling in the man’s grasp. In a desperate bid for freedom, I brought my knee up hard and fast, driving it with all the force I could muster straight between his legs. The sudden, excruciating pain caused him to recoil in agony, his grip on my throat loosening.
