Frankie stared at the water gently wrapping itself against the wooden poles holding up the pier. She had only been in New York City for two weeks and already the bright lights and one of a kind experiences had left her with a headache. The chili dog and pretzel where long gone and her MP3 player wasn't loud enough to drown out the ringing. She had finally found an isolated spot full of sunshine and silence. She closed her eyes and sighed. She missed her cool lush valley beneath the creek and the farmers market where she worked during the spring and summer.
But that was gone now since she accepted an internship working as a secretary for her uncle's best friend at Taylor's Publishing House. She spent hours filing genres and applications. Frankie felt the burn of heat on her neck and shoulders and suddenly regretted sitting in the sun. The cool water about 10 feet below her look so inviting. As she contemplated taking a dive she heard foot steps behind her. Turning she saw a man limping towards her, holding a gun and a bottle of Jack Daniels. "Hey there sugar, wanna share a drink." He said with a cough and a hiccup. Frankie shook her head and began moving towards the ladder that led to the higher walkways.
"Where do'ja think you goings?" he asked angrily cocking the gun. "Get back down here and play nice." He ordered walked over. She had noticed that he wasn't limping any more and that the Jack Daniels bottle was almost completely full. He grabbed her leg and pulled her down, watching her hit the wood with a hollow thump. Frankie groaned and tried to crawl away but the man flipped her over and pinned her to the floor. "I told you to play nice, pretty girl." He said in a roar. He struggled to keep the gun at her neck and unzip her jacket at the same time. Frankie prayed for someone to help her but there was nobody. She had sealed her fate by forgetting how dangerous New York was in search for solace. A memory flashed in her mind as she felt the sun beating down on her bare shoulders and cleavage.
Keeping the gun at her neck, the man began unzipping his pants and pulling his cock out, stroking it for a few moments. Frankie swallowed the vomit rising up and bit back a sob. As he unzipped her pants and began slipping them down, now holding the gun under her chin, Frankie tried to hold on to the memory of her self defense class. When he was about to thrust inside her, she lifted her legs and kicked him in the chin and then the chest. He dropped the gun and held his injured body, falling back. Frankie stood and covered herself and reached for her cell phone.
She backed away from the man as much as she could and grabbed her bag along the way. She had forgotten how close she was to the edge and fell into the water below. The water stung her back and she couldn't kick her legs for a reason. She wasn't able to move at all. She tried to curl her around her bag and prayed it would be quick. She had accepted the darkness and had passed out when someone pulled her out of the water and placed her on the pier.