I ironed out my favorite old purple skirt that had been collecting dust in the back of my closet. I traded in my sneakers for the leather boots I wore in Battle City. By the time I was standing gripping the pole on the subway heading to International Airport I looked like my old self again. They probably won't even be able to tell how much I've changed…how much has happened.
I kept checking my watch every ten seconds; 9:30pm. Dammit, why did I wait until the last minute? I'm not that worried, I'll admit. I'm sure the flight will be delayed, just like every other plane on the face of the Earth. Still, I can't wait to see all of them. I'd kept in touch by letter and phone a couple times, but I hadn't actually seen any of them for…what was it again…a year and a half? God, has it been that long? How much have all of them changed?
The pattern of squealing wheels on the tracks told me where my stop was. After a few escalator rides I emerged from the underground to a world of darkness speckled with streetlights. I'm a block away from the airport. Whoever positioned landmarks and the subway stops should be shot, I swear. Everything's a block or three or four from where you actually want to get to. It annoys the hell out of me. Maybe it's just because I'm apprehensive. I don't know. I just want to get to the airway gate.
The airlines were stuffed to the brim. Everyone is coming in for Christmas I guess. Men with cell phones glued to their eyes ran passed the mothers who were desperately trying to hush their little ones that cried out in hunger or weariness. I looked into their tired, worn faces and saw my own. No, no I'm just anxious. That's it, just anxious.
When I finally got in through the crowds, the electronic screens above the blue ticket counters showed that the flight from Domino to NYC really was delayed 15 to 20 minutes. I checked my watch again. 10pm exactly. Good. I took the elevator up to the third floor and walked down the salmon-carpeted halls until I found the Domino incoming flights gate. I took a seat near the passenger doorway with one eye on the CNN channel that was being projected on the wall. Wars and killings and everyone's fat. Same everyday. Maybe if everyone would just––
"Heyyyy, what's shakin' baby?"
My breath stopped in a sharp gasp. I gripped the armrests of my chair tight until my knuckles were white. I didn't want to turn around. I can't turn around. Maybe it's not him. Maybe he'll go away or he's not talking to me or—
It didn't matter what I prayed. My fears turned to reality when Jorge took the seat next to me and turned his lustful eyes on my trembling frame.
Shit. Oh shit. What if they see him? What if my friends see him?! What if Jorge finds out who my friends are and hurts them? Oh shit why did this perverted creep have to show up now?!
"Go away," I told him flatly, glaring at his ugly face. I was trying to be brave. He was sitting crookedly on his seat with one leather-booted leg halfway up on the armrest. His black, greasy hair overcast his eyes that were yellow in desire. A lit cigarette was sitting limply between his lips. He puffed on the cigarette and blew the smoke in my face. The smell began to choke me.
"C'mon, baby," he put his hand on mine. "Is that how you greet your best friend? Come on now. Where's the 'hi, how are you?'" He made a move to put his arm around me, but I jerked it away and stood up. No one else in the waiting area seemed to notice the madman terrorizing me.
"You're no friend of mine, you pervert." I turned to leave. He pulled me back into the seat with a force that nearly sent me down on the ground. Damn, he's strong.
"Baby––"
"Quit calling me baby," I started to grow frustrated. He had a good hold on my arm and it hurt like hell. He knew it, too, but he didn't let go. He twisted it just a little bit to see if I'd cry out. I didn't.
"Mai, sweetie, darling," he smiled with is rotten teeth that matched his ugly black hair. "Why so angry? Can't I talk to you?" His grin turned to a smirk and I knew he had no intention of "talking" about anything.
"How did you find me?" I asked calmly. His grip loosened on my arm, but it still hurt. If I tried to make a break for it, I know I wouldn't get far. Where are those stupid wandering police guys in airports when you needed them?
"I followed you, how else?" Jorge told me proudly. "I caught sight of you in the street and I just had to say hello." He blew another puff of smoke at me that made me gag. He was lying and I knew it. He probably watched until I left the apartment to follow me. Goosebumps went all across my body.
What is he going to do to me?
I looked up at the wall-screen of flights that read the Domino flight would be landing in ten minutes. I had to get rid of Jorge before then. What would Jounouchi think if he saw…?
"What are you doing here anyway, toots?" Jorge asked.
"Trying to get away from you!" I snapped. The mild amused look on his face melted into a snarling picture of a bulldog. He squeezed my arm like it was a toothpick ready for snapping. I couldn't scream; I was afraid he'd really break it.
"You better show me some respect, baby," he said to me through clenched teeth. He took a deep inhale from his smoke. "I asked you why you're here and I expect an answer. You ain't got no luggage, so who're you waiting for? A friend? Something more? I know you ain't got no family, toots, so if you don't––"
"Is there a problem here?" a gruff looking security guard approached us. Jorge immediately let go of my arm, exposing a large red mark that wrung around from my elbow to my shoulder. It throbbed in anger. The security guy looked suspiciously at Jorge.
"Th-there's no problem, sir," I said as sweetly as I could. I'm not stupid. I know Jorge has a lot of connections and if I were to get him in trouble, I wouldn't live to see tomorrow. Besides, I tried the police once. No one can help me…
"No Jorge, you go on ahead home," I pushed him out of the seat, "and I'll take care of the guests, mmkay?"
That yellow glow in his eye overtook his entire complexion and then was snuffed out like a flame. He broke out into a grin and shared it with the security guard.
"Yeah, sure sweets. Anything ya say."
The guard started to walk away, but kept an eye on us just in case. Jorge began to walk away. I sat back down and closed my eyes. I was trying to keep the tears from rising up and drowning me.
That's when my hair was suddenly pulled back with a harsh yank. I yelped, but a smoke-smelling hand covered my mouth.
"That was some smooth talking, baby," he hissed in my ear. "Next time you won't get away so easy. See you around." He pulled his cigarette out of his mouth and pushed it into my injured arm. I screamed, but he forced his hand harder over my mouth to muffle the sound. When he was done, he threw the damn thing away and walked out of the airport all casual as hell. I was left sitting there with tears in my eyes and a burn mark on my right arm. The other people waiting around looked at me suspiciously and then went back to their magazines. My heart sunk through the floor and burned somewhere in the core of the earth.
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