Day 0
The city bus that stopped on the corner of 3rd St and Davis Avenue was nearly empty. It broke the eerie silence of the street to drop off a lone person, who stood there, back to the door as it closed and the bus went on its way down the street. Hands on the pocket of her black hoodie, Sam looked to her left to see the bus rattle away, discreetly feeling for the sheathed blade she kept hidden on the waistband of her jeans. She kept it with her all times, a habit that made her feel safer, stronger. Starting to walk, she kept her head down but her eyes up, attention on its peak. Her steps were silent, her old, worn out tennis shoes light on the hard asphalt, but her rapid pounding heart sounded loud on her ears as a dog leapt up the fence she passed with a sudden, deep bark. She took an involuntary step to the side, hand flying to grip the knife handle on the sheath. It wasn't safe to walk around there at night, she knew that by experience. Eyeing the dog for a moment, as it kept barking angrily, she forced herself to breathe in and out and adjusted the straps of her small backpack from where it rested over her silver blonde dreadlocks.
It was a simple seven-minute walk from that corner to her house, but it felt like an hour.
Turning on the corner of 7th St, Sam should have been relieved to be close to her house, but she wasn't. Her heart thumped hard again as she took a couple of steps after the corner and voices reached her ears. Loud, menacing laughter travelling through the air from a house near the end of the street, about a hundred yards away. Not far enough. Sam had counted her steps over and over again, eyes always darting around.
She knew that street in its details. The houses there were not close together, big spaces and trees between them, no fences. The blue house on the left corner was the nicest one, with the nicest people, an elderly couple who always smiled at her when they met, even though they never spoke. She felt sorry for them, growing old in a neighborhood like this. To her right, a long line of trees with no houses, cricket singing in the warm night. The second house had a nice but now overgrown front yard, a big For Sale sign stuck on the grass for a long time now. The first two houses on the right side belonged to just one family; loud people who were always crossing the yard between them, fighting daily and yelling at each other, but tonight the voices she heard didn't come from there, but from the next house on the left. Two-story, old yellowing white paint, chipping brown windows and railings. Four steps lead up to a small porch, and an old, decaying couch under the window, now littered by a small group of men under the dim light. It wasn't a rare occurrence; they were there many nights a week. Sam looked around once again and over her shoulders, checking if she was really alone, and removed her right hand from her pocket, only to snake it around the knife handle once again. Reassured it was really still there, she let her slightly trembling hand move back into the pocket, lowered her head and hastened her steps, but didn't run.
Empty beer cans and a strong smell of low quality weed decorated the place. Tonight there were three men other than the two who lived there. A man she knew to have a weird nickname like Gecko or something was sitting on the top step, back to the railing, lighting up the joint with a lighter. There was another sitting on the couch, she couldn't see him properly behind the railing and the overgrown bush that tried to decorate it, but she saw enough of him to know it was the weird guy who lived at the end of Anderson Street, three blocks away from here. He was named after a letter. She didn't even try to remember which one now. There was another man sitting on the floor in front of the door, a can in hand, draining it. She heard him belch when he finished, and he laughed throwing it to the floor by his side. Elbows resting on the railing, looking out at the street, was the younger of the two brothers who lived there, cigarette in hand, his expression guarded, looking pissed off like he usually looked. Finally, on the arm of the couch, the older brother, graying shaved head, a smirk playing on his lips as his light blue eyes saw her approach.
A cold chill started on the bottom of her spine and travelled up to lodge on the nape of her neck. One by one the men saw her, and she knew what was about to happen.
They never permitted her to go by them in peace. That had never happened and Sam was not optimistic enough to think tonight it would be different.
"There she is!", Sam heard Merle coo aloud in his hoarse, drunkenly drawled voice. "Done a lotta studyn' today? Did ya give it good to the teacher for em' good grades?", he yelled and laughed, the others echoing him, highly entertained. They followed his rude, inappropriate comments and gestures, things Sam tried to ignore and stop herself from being offended by, but as usually she failed miserably. She wanted to disappear, or better yet, she wanted them to disappear. To close her eyes and to see them gone when she opened them, but no, she didn't dare to close her eyes. She kept them open and attentive, looking at each of the five men once again.
Only one of them was quiet, not following the other's lead, light blue eyes like his older brother's fixed on her now, teeth biting on his lower lip's skin. The younger brother was not much older than Sam herself. He was the only one whose voice she didn't hear in those occasions. He never said anything and she had never seen him laughing at what the others say. But he was there, and he didn't stop the others from humiliating her every other night, so to her, he just as much a threat as the others. Sam looked away, walking even faster, trying to dodge the impending situation, but it was too late. One of the men, the one who had been sitting on the couch, was already up and crossing the front yard over the poorly kept grass in quick steps. He stood in front of her, blocking her way. His name was D, she remembered now. Sam didn't know what it stood for, she had never heard his real name, but she liked to imagine it was Dickhead.
It was his last name. First name was Dead.
He smiled down at her, the smell of beer on his breath, with barely any teeth left in his mouth at all, except a few stained, yellowed teeth. Blonde, oily hair falling over his forehead almost covering his blue, reddened eyes. He wore a ragged tank too short to cover his protruding belly.
"Where ya goin' sweetheart?", he said opening his arms to block her way.
She stopped, just like her breathing did for a second. "Get out of my way, D", she growled between clenched teeth.
"C'mon, sugar, let's go inside and have us some fun." And with that, he grabbed her left arm just above the elbow, strongly, and turned towards the stairs, forcing her with him.
Her hands fell from inside the hoodie pockets. The other men got up from their positions to watch as Sam struggled to make D let go of her arm, urging him to pull her harder. Among them, Sam saw Merle up and attentive, smugness gone from his eyes, something unreadable taking its place. The men's voices filled her mind of any further thought, D's fetid breath suffocating her.
"Let go!", she hissed aloud, arm bouncing strongly back and forth trying to escape, but he was stronger, even in his inebriated state.
"Not gonna happen, sweetie", he smirked as he pulled her strongly against his chest, one arm circling her lower back, pressing her hard against him. "Been patient enough for years just talkin' and hearin' ya always bitchin'."
"I'm warning you, D, get your fuckin' hands off of me!"
He laughed aloud, the sound making a cold chill travel up her spine again, forcefully pulling her to the middle of the Dixons' front yard. "Well shit, would ya look at the dirty mouth on ya!"
"Son of a bitch!", she barked as he spoke, her free arm thumping against his chest with clenched fist.
"You gonna show me how dirty ya can be, princess". With that, he put even more force to his grip and pulled her to him, his mouth crashing against hers, his tongue moving over her tightly closed lips, trying to force its way into her mouth. Her stomach churned, bile rising to her throat. Eyes wide open, Sam saw as her two neighbors moved from where they had been watching it all so far. Her heart beat even faster, now almost painfully as they both walked down the steps heading in their direction. The pair stopped dead in their tracks a moment later, though, as D's loud, hoarse scream filled the night around them and cut off the laughter coming from the porch. He pushed her away from him, a hand touching his lips, eyes wide in horror as he saw his own blood run down.
Sam's trembling hand wiped the blood from her own lips and spat on the floor, features showing just how disgusted she felt now, her hand already reaching for the knife on her waistband sheath.
"Fuckin´ bitch!", D yelled, all signs of laughter gone, blood dripping from his lower lip. "Gonna show ya not to disrespect a man!" Raising his hand, he slapped her across the face, strongly enough to make her head swirl to the side. She caught herself before stumbling to the ground, and just as she regained balance, her hand came up so quickly the other men almost missed the movement altogether, but D saw it and froze in place, eyes glued to the girl in front of him.
Blood stained her lips, a mix of rage and disgust in her eyes, and now a knife pointing to his throat.
"I. Warned. You", she whispered menacingly, pausing after each word.
"I know whatcha need, kitten", D said in a low voice, the smile returning to his bit down, bloody lip, "ya need a man to calm yer nerves. Ya ain't of 'em lesbos, are ya?"
"If ya ever touch me again – fuck, ya ever even look at me again, I swear I'll cut off your dick and shove it up your ass!", she hissed venomously and pressed the knife further, D taking a tentative step back and the tip of the knife pressed into his skin. She raised her voice then, hating that it trembled a little, "Now get the fuck outta my face!"
"Alright, alright, sugar." He laughed and raised his arms in mocking surrender, taking more steps backwards to the house. "Just kidding anyway, keep ya panties on". He turned to his friends to see them laugh at his absurdly stupid joke. "Tough one, ain't she?", he smirked at the other men and looked at her again over his shoulders, a dangerous smirk and a threatening glint in his eyes. "Won't mind taming it".
Sam followed his movements with her knife, still pointing it to him, her hand trembling a little even as he stepped up to the porch. Only then she looked at the others. Merle hadn't moved and he wasn't laughing, his hand touching at the gun tucked under back of his waistband. Sam became sure he'd shoot her on spot if she went any further with D. The others laughed with him as he approached, clapping him on the back, complimenting him for his attack like he was their hero. Merle's younger brother, Daryl, was standing by him, observing the scene, his eyes looking dangerously at D and then back at Sam. Her narrowed eyes met his for a moment as she started to back away, eyes darting over every man there as she increased the distance between them. She finally turned around and retreated in hasty steps towards her house, the too small distance between them feeling much longer as she did, her ears still trained on their vicious voices.
Bounding up her own front steps, Sam risked one last gaze at the neighbors' house and caught Daryl watching her unlock the door, desperate for the psychological safety being inside would bring her. Once inside her house, she locked the door, knife still in hand, knuckles white from gripping it so hard. She faced the door for a long moment, half expecting it to be forced open at any second now. As long moments passed and nothing happened, Sam felt her legs threaten to give away and lowered herself to the floor, pulling her knees tight onto her chest.
She was sure the men didn't hear the rage that came out of her in a low, throaty scream.