Chapter 4
I quickly decided, and bit his tongue as hard as I could. He hollered in pain as he dropped me to the floor. I spotted my bag, grabbed it, and opened the car door to escape. But as soon as I was about to get out, he grabbed me from the arm and was pulling me in. "GET AWAY FROM ME!"I shouted, kicked him in the balls, jumped down and ran for my life. I found the way out and was running down the highway with my bag slung around my shoulder. I never stopped, no matter who was watching, no matter how tired I was, no matter how badly I needed a break, in fear that that rapist would catch up.
I finally made it to town, completely naked, never letting go of my bag. Luckily no one was outside except for one woman, standing on her porch, looking around. She was a tall, redheaded person with a green shirt and capris. I questioned her saying out, but quickly dismissed it out of my mind. As soon as she saw me, her eyes were as wide as plates. "OMG! What are you doing, running in the streets like that?" She ran down to see me. Then I told her the whole story, in a much shorter version. Suddenly the man was running up the street. Probably going to act like my dad or something, I thought. I started to imagine.
He comes up and says, "Daughter, why did you run away again?" I say "I'm not your daughter!" "Stop lying, girl. I'm sorry for any trouble this has caused you," he would say to the woman. "But she said something about running away from." she'll start. "She always uses that excuse," he'd say "Let's go home," he'll say and drag me along.
I shuddered to think. "Please get me some clothes and a long rope; no, I'm not crazy," I added, just in case she asked about the rope. When I got the rope, I lassoed him, sprayed him with water from a hose, and tied him up. Pretty impressive, huh? Then I called 911 and put on a teal blue robe she laid on the couch. After the police came, so did the press. I told them not to show my face, but said, "I'm oh so glad I did that," just for the hint.
But I also added, "Some girls would have sat there, not knowing what to do; others would have just kicked and yelled aimlessly in the middle of the forest. So sometimes you need to take action; it just might save your life." When the reporters asked what I meant by "it just might save your life", I just shuddered and said "No comment for now."
Much later, everyone drove off, to get this "breaking news" to the papers and the TV. The lady finally approached me and introduced herself.
"I'm Margaret Johnson, you can just call me Mrs. J if you want to. Sorry I was so caught up in everything that I couldn't tell you my name." "It's okay. I'm Lila Sloan." "You know, you can stay if you like." "Thank you, Mrs. J." She genuinely smiled and walked into the kitchen.
I soon found out that she had adopted kids when they came home with her husband from P.S. 120. There were 2 of them, a boy and a girl. The girl was my age, 12, was tan, had brown eyes, and brown, wavy hair. The boy looked the same way, only with shorter, curly hair and a shorter body too. Somehow they looked familiar, but I couldn't quite put my finger on why. After a while we settled down for dinner and then I told them my story in the living room after dessert.
"Wow, I can't believe you almost got ..raped," the girl said. "I know," Mrs. J said, "good thing I was there. I always knew that staying out in the mornings were good." The girl started again, "If Mom wasn't outside, think what could have happened." The was a long silence until the girl said, "Oh yeah, I never told you our names. I'm Jenna and my brother is Jeffrey. Our last names used to be Lamarre."
"Really?" I asked. "Was your mother's mane Lisa?"
"We think so," Jeffery answered. "Something happened and she had to go away. Almost every night dad used to take her picture and say, 'I miss you, Lisa'." "They thought he was crazy when they heard him," Jenna answered. Jeffery crept up to Jenna and whispered in her ear, "Who would blame them?" I would have rolled my eyes, but I was deep in thought. Could this be the same woman that watched me when my father died? Well, there was only one way to find out.
I quickly decided, and bit his tongue as hard as I could. He hollered in pain as he dropped me to the floor. I spotted my bag, grabbed it, and opened the car door to escape. But as soon as I was about to get out, he grabbed me from the arm and was pulling me in. "GET AWAY FROM ME!"I shouted, kicked him in the balls, jumped down and ran for my life. I found the way out and was running down the highway with my bag slung around my shoulder. I never stopped, no matter who was watching, no matter how tired I was, no matter how badly I needed a break, in fear that that rapist would catch up.
I finally made it to town, completely naked, never letting go of my bag. Luckily no one was outside except for one woman, standing on her porch, looking around. She was a tall, redheaded person with a green shirt and capris. I questioned her saying out, but quickly dismissed it out of my mind. As soon as she saw me, her eyes were as wide as plates. "OMG! What are you doing, running in the streets like that?" She ran down to see me. Then I told her the whole story, in a much shorter version. Suddenly the man was running up the street. Probably going to act like my dad or something, I thought. I started to imagine.
He comes up and says, "Daughter, why did you run away again?" I say "I'm not your daughter!" "Stop lying, girl. I'm sorry for any trouble this has caused you," he would say to the woman. "But she said something about running away from." she'll start. "She always uses that excuse," he'd say "Let's go home," he'll say and drag me along.
I shuddered to think. "Please get me some clothes and a long rope; no, I'm not crazy," I added, just in case she asked about the rope. When I got the rope, I lassoed him, sprayed him with water from a hose, and tied him up. Pretty impressive, huh? Then I called 911 and put on a teal blue robe she laid on the couch. After the police came, so did the press. I told them not to show my face, but said, "I'm oh so glad I did that," just for the hint.
But I also added, "Some girls would have sat there, not knowing what to do; others would have just kicked and yelled aimlessly in the middle of the forest. So sometimes you need to take action; it just might save your life." When the reporters asked what I meant by "it just might save your life", I just shuddered and said "No comment for now."
Much later, everyone drove off, to get this "breaking news" to the papers and the TV. The lady finally approached me and introduced herself.
"I'm Margaret Johnson, you can just call me Mrs. J if you want to. Sorry I was so caught up in everything that I couldn't tell you my name." "It's okay. I'm Lila Sloan." "You know, you can stay if you like." "Thank you, Mrs. J." She genuinely smiled and walked into the kitchen.
I soon found out that she had adopted kids when they came home with her husband from P.S. 120. There were 2 of them, a boy and a girl. The girl was my age, 12, was tan, had brown eyes, and brown, wavy hair. The boy looked the same way, only with shorter, curly hair and a shorter body too. Somehow they looked familiar, but I couldn't quite put my finger on why. After a while we settled down for dinner and then I told them my story in the living room after dessert.
"Wow, I can't believe you almost got ..raped," the girl said. "I know," Mrs. J said, "good thing I was there. I always knew that staying out in the mornings were good." The girl started again, "If Mom wasn't outside, think what could have happened." The was a long silence until the girl said, "Oh yeah, I never told you our names. I'm Jenna and my brother is Jeffrey. Our last names used to be Lamarre."
"Really?" I asked. "Was your mother's mane Lisa?"
"We think so," Jeffery answered. "Something happened and she had to go away. Almost every night dad used to take her picture and say, 'I miss you, Lisa'." "They thought he was crazy when they heard him," Jenna answered. Jeffery crept up to Jenna and whispered in her ear, "Who would blame them?" I would have rolled my eyes, but I was deep in thought. Could this be the same woman that watched me when my father died? Well, there was only one way to find out.