Tap. Tap. Tap. The thick raindrops fell incessantly on the dimly lit street and have done so for two whole hours. So far it was one of the rather rare rainy days in Saint Berkaine, a city in New Jersey.
The heavy and thick drops pattered against the windows, some of which were still lit up. The gutters were already overfilled and the water ran freely on the neat, in sunlight, beautiful front gardens of the inhabitants. But now, in the deepest night, the meticulously trimmed boxwood with their huge shadows that fell on my face seemed eerie.
The various flowers that otherwise shone in the brightest of colors were only gray and resembled bent fingers. Almost as if they belonged to one undead, who wanted to free himself from his watery grave. I felt lonely and deserted and I was, though I hated to admit it, scared. I believed to be followed by numerous shadows and as soon as I'd slow down they would turn into monsters with big, pointy teeth and eat me. But every time I thought about it, I realized how stupid that thought really was.
I was 16 years old and no longer six. I didn't believe in monsters, ghosts or vampires that would get me at night since an eternity. A slight smile flashed across my face, but a few seconds later the smile had disappeared and instead I heard a sigh coming from my mouth. I was travelling for hours and the rain and the icy wind, which whipped into my unprotected, frozen face and against my dress, were my constant companions. By now I was completely soaked. Thick drops coming from my black hair constantly ran down my neck and back, leaving lasting goose bumps and causing me chills.
But my dress was hit the worst. It had turned cold and heavy by the wetness, there were still dirt and grass stains on the hem, which I would probably never get out again. These spots were enough to remind me, for seemingly the thousandth time, of Quentin Jones and the most terrible date of all time.
He had wanted to pick me up at half past six, but I had begun to physically and mentally prepare myself for this date three hours ago. After half an hour under the warm water of my shower, I had put dozens of outfits on and off, because I couldn't really enthuse myself over anything. None was perfect for Quentin Jones, that's what I thought at least. He looked good, wrote good marks and was a true gentleman. He was the perfect son-in-law.
So I had to find an outfit which would be appropriate for him. I hardly could have showed up with in jeans and a wrinkled shirt. But the search has been more difficult than expected. The black skirt has been too short, the white blouse too long, those jeans too tight and the blue dress hasn't really been my taste anyway.
Desperately I had grabbed my phone and called Linda, my best friend who only lived a few houses away, and begged her with my most panic-struck voice for help.
„Calm down, Holly", she'd said, though she couldn't keep back a short laughter after I described my problem to her.
„You have such beautiful clothes in your very stuffed closet, something fitting will surely be in there." Her calm and clear voice had a calming effect on me, but not for long, because I still didn't have any clue what to wear. And one look at the clock told me that I had fallen into a time delay.
„Just put on your red dress, you know, that one you wore at my birthday." As a result I had hit myself on the forehead with the flat hand. Apparently too hard, because a few moments later, a red stain had appeared on that spot.
„I haven't thought about that! It's my favourite dress. But don't you think that it is a little...prudish?", I had carefully asked. Linda had let her high laughter be heard again.
„No, it's really beautiful and looks good on you. Put it on and if Quentin doesn't like it, it doesn't matter anyway, right? You surely won't wear it for too long..." Another laughter followed this outrageous statement.
„Stop that, Linda, I'm not a whore!", I had loudly and shocked snapped into my mobile phone.
„I'm sorry, I didn't mean you. After all you know what kind of reputation Quentin has. Well, it doesn't matter. Just put on the dress so I can hang up and finally finish my homework", she'd playfully annoyed replied, though I could imagine her face with the rolled eyes on the other end of the line just well.
„Yeah, yeah and thanks for your help." Rushed, I had thrown the phone on my bed and hurried to my closet. Linda's statement about Quentin's reputation was still ringing in my head.
Of course had I heard about his countless conquests, the girls in the locker room ensured that when we got changed for sports lesson. They told everyone who wanted to know, and also the ones who didn't, how charming he was and how many girls he has been dating. I've never been interested in their gossip. My opinion was, that one shouldn't think so much of the rumors because most of it was made-up. And the same goes for Quentin Jones. So I didn't think much about it when he has been standing in front of me in the school corridor with an adorable smile and asked me for a date the day before yesterday.
After several pants, skirts and some handbags I finally got out my red dress. It had both, a front and rear v-shaped neckline, plus a waist lacing and the lower part had two slits. Thankfully it had no wrinkles, because I hated ironing in a rush. Within seconds, I put on my dress and started to do my make up and style my hair.
Just in time at 06:30 pm the doorbell rang. After one final look in my mirror I had hurried downstairs and opened the heavy wooden door. And there was Quentin, standing in front of the door, under the glare of the lamp, but his appearance had been beautiful nonetheless. He had styled his blond hair with gel, so that it stuck out in all directions. The tight, dark blue shirt hinted his muscular torso. Then he had looked me with his almost sapphire blue eyes directly in my also blue eyes, grinned and told me how beautiful I looked. Inwardly, I had thanked Linda once again on my knees for her help. Apparently the red dress had been the right choice.
Minutes later, we had taken a seat in his black Porsche and were on our way to the movies. He had been telling me about his friends and countless sport interests for half an eternity. I had been bored a little, but of course didn't let him notice it. Every now and then he glimpsed at my cleavage. He had done that, whenever he thought I wouldn't pay attention to him at the moment. In fact, I had been distracted half the time and barely listened to him as I looked out the window and watched the people on the streets, as they were hurriedly walking to their homes or to a party. Only now and then I had nodded to signal him that I was listening.
At 07:10 pm, armoured with popcorn and drinks, we had sat down in hall three, waiting for the film to begin. It hadn't been crowded since the movie, some action-comedy flick, had been airing since months. A few minutes after the beginning of the movie, Quentin had already put his strong arm around my shoulders and pulled me close to him. I had felt his warmth immediately and got his scent, a mixture of aftershave, deodorant and sweat, into my nose. Throughout the movie we had frequently kissed. I had thought he was a good kisser, because his kisses weren't too moist neither were they too intrusive. Just perfect.
Up to this point it had been a completely successful evening. I was happy, had grinned nonstop all night and he was polite and courteous.
But this had changed drastically after the end of the movie, because, he didn't drive me home, as agreed, but instead took the road towards the woods and outskirts. However, I had only realized that when I spotted the large and dark outlines of the elms in front of me and noticed the sudden silence around us. I had immediately gotten a strange feeling and I was freezing cold. Had that guy switched the heating off? When I had glanced to Quentin, he'd only grinned at me lustfully and greedy. His gaze had been tacked to my, to the thighs, bare legs. I hadn't noticed that my dress was ridden up.
The atmosphere has changed all of the sudden. There was nothing left of Quentin´s politeness and the warmth and safety in the car. It was cold and the interior lights above us had let his heinous glare look more threatening. I suddenly had the urge to get out of the car and flee. To escape from this boy, who didn't seem to be Quentin Jones anymore. We were sitting in the car like this for minutes. I, cowering at the furthest corner of my seat, and he, staring at my legs.
But suddenly he had forcefully grabbed my wrists, which looked more like branches between his hands, and, with a jerk, pulled me on his lap. The sweet smell of popcorn and his sweat got into my nose. Gloatingly, he had looked me in the face.
From the charming and nice boy that he had been at the beginning of the date, there was no trace to be found in his face anymore. He'd eyeballed me from the top to the bottom, licked himself with relish over the lips and whispered with his warm breath in my ear that he wanted to do it with me now.
Disgusted, I had, with all of my strength, wound myself out of his grip. In vain. He was way too strong for me. Amused by my attempts to escape, he had just grinned stupidly and tightened the grip around my wrists. When I had, after several more tries which got more desperate and panicked, almost abandoned any hope of freedom, one last option how I could escape this situation came to my mind. With disgust I had spit Quentin right in the face.
For a short time he had been perplexed and surprise has been written all over his face. But the surprise had quickly turned into rage. I had expected that he would yell at me, but within seconds he had opened the driver's door and threw me, away from his lap, directly on the concrete floor.
Before I could even realize what had happened, he'd already started the engine and drove away. Left alone, I had attended my long way home. I couldn't call my parents because I had forgotten my phone. In addition, they were on vacation in the Bahamas.
And just like that, I had ended up in this miserable situation. In the pouring rain, which incessantly beat down on me, I wandered alone through dark alleys and streets.
Now I was gradually aware that Linda has probably been right with her saying „you know what kind of reputation he has". But now the date could no longer be undone. Well, Holly. One is always wiser afterwards, my inner voice had announced which sounded suspiciously like my mom.
In the last few minutes I had noticeably gotten colder and the rain would just not stop. As I stared in the gray sky above me, I knew that the weather wouldn't change anytime soon. Frustrated, I went on.
My shoes' heels clacked with every step. But except my shoes and the constant rain, nothing could be heard. Not a single car had passed in the last two hours. It surprised me that I had been walking for so long, because the route, especially in a Porsche, seemed much shorter to me. But that was probably because of the distorted perception.
When I discovered a bench a few steps in front of me, I gratefully settled down for a moment on the cold and hard metal. A considerable amount of water splashed to the side, because here, as everywhere else, the rain had collected itself. My lips were trembling like crazy.
I didn't care that my dress soaked up the water below me in a short time and that it already came up to my panties. I only felt the pain in my legs and feet. They felt extremely heavy. And suddenly hot tears of despair, effort and anger at my own stupidity welled up in my eyes and ran down my cold, wet face. The tears left a hot trail on my skin, but the rain wiped them off right away. I deeply breathed in and out and tried to calm myself down.
You're not crying because of this idiot, are you?, I asked myself and stood up. Like an answer, I shook my head and walked a few steps, until I realized that my legs had brought me into a dark and deserted alley that was completely unknown to me. I suppose I should have been more careful where I went.
I stopped abruptly. The alley was narrow and slim. Overfilled dustbins stood on the dirty gray walls of the houses. Again, there were deep puddles everywhere and no light burned in the small windows.
Panicked, I looked around further. My breathing was ragged and my heart racing.
Don't panic, maybe I do know this alley and just can't recognize it in the darkness. Yes, it can't be anything else. I definitely know my way around my own town.
I kept on repeating these phrases over and over again out loud to calm myself down. After some time, my pulse was almost normal again and there even flashed a little smile across my lips, which was a bit distressed. I was about to leave the lane, when I heard the echoing sound of footsteps in the distance. I perked up. This sound caused an emotional chaos inside of me.
On one hand, I was so happy to have found another person, who would maybe lend his mobile phone to me so that I could ask Linda to pick me up. On the other hand, I didn't know what kind of person was walking around here. Was he friendly or dangerous? I was still lost in thought as thirty meters away from me, I spotted a dark figure. Judging from its silhouette, it was a man and that, a big and strong man.
Suddenly an image flashed through my head. Me, covered in blood lying in the alley and above me the dark figure with a butcher knife and a diabolical grin on the face.
I quickly spun around and ran down the alley towards the main street, as I hoped. Just once I let myself be tempted to turn around and look out for the man. That, I better shouldn't have done, because I realized in horror that the man ran after me and, with great steps, overcame the distance between us.
He isn't running after me, right? I haven't done anything to him. Maybe he wants help from me as well. Or does he want to kill me?
The fear numbed my senses. Thousand thoughts pounded on my head, but none of them got me to stop or slow down. Opposite. I sped my pace up, as far as it was possible with five centimeters high heels.
Nevertheless, I heard my chaser getting closer.
After some more steps I could hear his heavy breathing and eventually spot his outline from the corner of my eye. The sheer terror of the stranger let me go on, even though my whole body ached, what I barely noticed. The adrenaline that flows through my veins seemed like a painkiller. Again, I felt tears in my eyes.
And suddenly, out of nowhere, an arm shot out from the side, grabbed my waist with a firm grip and pulled me into a niche under a steel fire escape. Due to the shock, I was completely unable to defend myself in any way against the stranger or to flee. I just felt two strong arms, which held me. The skin that touched me was warm and, like my skin, full of raindrops that ran down his forearms.
When I let my gaze wander further upwards, I saw that the stranger's upper body was dressed in an expensive looking black shirt and quickly moving up and down. The shirt was soaking wet and stuck to his body. His pants and his shoes, which didn't seem less noble as his shirt, were also pitch black. After several minutes I bravely looked into his face and was surprised. Before me stood a boy who appeared to be about my age. Due to his size and stature I had rather expected a 30-year-old man.
The boy had dark brown hair that lay flat and wet from the rain on his head. His face was very prominent, one had no problems making out his cheekbones. The lips were relatively narrow and his nose straight and unobtrusively. The thing that struck me the most were his icy gray eyes that looked directly at me. His eyes scared me, because I had always imagined that only killers or lunatics had such eyes.
But as much afraid as I was, I could not escape those eyes and stranger. I know it was pretty unwise to be standing in a dark niche with a total stranger, but something about him fascinated me. Maybe it was his face or his entire appearance.
It seemed like an eternity to me, that we both stood there like this. He, his arms wrapped around me ,and I, eyes stuck to his face, while the lower part of my dress played around his legs. The flashy red was in extreme contrast to the dark clothing of his.
Suddenly, his eyes widened and with a jerk he had pulled me even closer to him, so that I could easily feel his muscles under the shirt on my skin and inhale his fragrance. Oddly enough, he faintly smelled of metal and a bit like charred paper.
The scent, which was unknown to me and I couldn't think of it whatsover, burned uncomfortably in my nose. I heard his strong and rapid heartbeat.
I could not explain why he was so nervous, but my thought process was interrupted when I felt a cold, wet hand on my mouth. The stranger glanced in all directions, then, from time to time, he simply stayed motionless and carefully listened to the silence.
I on the other hand, outrageously looked at him and tried to pull his hand from my mouth, since this last gesture had brought me back to my self-preservation instinct.
Like fog at dawn his appearance and dominant occurrence had wrapped my mind.
Now I could see clearly again and immediately, my inner voice began to throw accusations at me. What are you doing here? You don't know this guy, he is probably a rapist or serial killer. Get away as fast as possible!
Now I was finally aware of how stupid and dangerous my behaviour was. Why did he keep my mouth shut? Did he want to suffocate me or that my screams could not be heard when he brutally murders and dismembers me?
Driven by another vision of my own death, in which I was nothing but small bloody slices in a garbage can and was eaten by big fat rats, I defended myself with increasing force against the stranger with steel-gray eyes. Annoyed, he watched me while I dragged on his hand on my mouth like a madwoman and how I pressed my hands against his strong chest from time to time and tried to push myself away from him, in order to escape his grasp.
But the more I resisted and struggled in his arms, the more firmly he grabbed me. For the second time that evening, I felt lost near a man. Was it a coincidence or fate?
My skin began to burn like hell under his hands, like a lighter that was held a few centimeters below one's hand, when I stopped abruptly.
Tap. Tap. Tap. I heard footsteps of several people, who stopped near us. Heavy, rattling breaths broke the silence now. Beside me, the young stranger was also standing still like a pillar of salt, listening to the breaths. A slight shiver ran through my body.
Was it the result of the cold or my fear? I just closed my eyes and tried, with all my might, to think about something else than of the unknown person and the other, probably dangerous, people in my immediate vicinity.
In my mind, my parents showed up, who smiled at me friendly, closely behind them was Linda. I smiled dreamy and for a few moments forgot about the environment and the events around me. I suddenly felt the grip loosen around my waist and the hand on my mouth disappeared. I opened my eyes and looked into a relieved face. Apparently, that's why he had been so nervous. He had heard the footsteps before I did. Maybe the people had chased him and he had fled from them.
I just wanted to start asking the many questions that were burning in my mind, when he turned his back on me and disappeared through the rain in the night. Initially, I could still hear his footsteps, but these faded with increasing distance.
Still stunned, I stood still in the dark niche, which sheltered me a bit from the rain. In my mind swirled the numerous events that occurred that night. The date with Quentin, my lonely way back through the rain, the attack of the stranger and finally the other unknown people. How could all of this happen in one day, or rather, happen in a few hours? Why has Quentin suddenly mutated into a disgusting guy? Why had I forgotten my cell phone? Who had the strange figures been, who seemed to have known my unknown savoir? And who was he?
These and thousands of other questions raced through my mind, but none of them I could answer. I shook my head to get rid of the agonizing questions and, after half an eternity, finally started to move again. And I winced slightly as raindrops touched my skin.
After a few steps, the pain in my legs and feet came back, unfortunately. I groaned exhausted and left the narrow alley. On and on I trudged through puddles of water. When I was looking upwards and recognized the street name on a small metal board, I blurted out a small, shrill cry of joy.
„Walnut Street", I whispered softly to myself. Over and over again. This street was my street. Here I lived in a small house with my father Richard and my mother Eleanor. Again, hot tears flowed down my cheeks. My relief was boundless and I started to run. My shoes clacked in the rhythm of my heart now.
The never ending pain was forgotten when I saw our house with the white panels, the dark blue roof and the „Welcome" sign on the wooden door.
Only a few meters, I thought, and quickly got the house key out of my black handbag. The keychain with the countless colorful pendants jingled in my hand. Because of the excitement, my hand was shaking so much that I had to hold it with my left hand.
Finally the door was open and I rushed inside. I slammed the door behind me and ran up the short flight of stairs.
Once at the top, I felt my way through the, from the moonlight poorly lit, corridor, along the wall to my bedroom door. When I closed my hand around the knob, I turned it around and with one step I was standing in my room. It was nice and warm, because I had turned on the heater before I had my date. It smelled like flowers and my perfume.
Relieved and happy I slipped my shoes off the icy feet, took off the dress and layed down in my bed, still in my underwear. I was too tired to put on my pyjama.
I wrapped the blanket around me and stared at the silky sky that stretched above my bed. There, small dots of light from the street lamps could be seen. I fixed my gaze on the largest dot. It merged, just like the other dots, with the black ceiling above me after a short time and I fell into an uneasy sleep full of dreams that dealt with dark figures and tons of water.