Random acts of Violence: Episode Six.

She shutoff the water and rubbed her neck as the last of it ran down her back. She placed her forehead against the white tiles, her eyes closed. They felt cool after the heat of the shower and she paused there a moment in review of the day. It had been a hard one.

Her eyes opened just in time to see a single drop of blood fall from her nose in slow motion. She watched it spatter on the already wet floor of the shower. She sniffed hard and then ran the tap a little to create a tiny stream of red that disappeared down the drain. Blood didn't worry her.

She reached around the corner and grabbed the towel that hung on the hook in wait and dropped the bottom edge onto the floor to step on as a mat. A ritual since childhood. The top edge she used to dab at her nose. It had stopped bleeding but left a smudge of pink on the towel when she inspected it. Not the first, not the last time.

With dry feet she flipped the towel onto her head and patted her jet black hair and then wrapped it in the towel and flicked it over in the way that only a woman can. With beads of water still on her body, she stood naked in front of the mirror and looked herself up and down.

Up and down didn't take long at her height and there was nothing new to see, nothing she hadn't seen before. From behind, both sexes would have desired her hourglass shape, from her position though, she could see and feel the bruises. A body battered by fists. She looked at her face, an angry darkness had formed but the swelling was not as bad as she had expected. Makeup, a woman's best friend at these times, a way to cover reality.

The rain poured down. It seemed to always rain and the wind bit to the bone. Even through the thick pea wool coat that dropped past the length of her white dress, the skin felt like it had been dragged over a cheese shredder. She hated the cold yet was too stubborn to move. Anyway, where would she go?

This is where her home was, where her heart lay. A grey land where the sky and the concrete fused, had become the place she found love. Many loves truth be told but some were more torturing than others. The kids she helped, they are the ones that kept her punishing herself day in and day out so as to be there for them more and more. She knew what many of them were going through.

She wondered if it was healthy at times, for her or for them, that she sacrificed so much. Was she actually making their lives better or was she removing their agency, was she becoming a crutch they would lean on, rely on? What happens if she disappears, what happens if she is hit by a bus? Would their parents step up and actually do their job? Unlikely she muttered.

She stood huddled in the doorway as the rain drummed along the ground and she could feel the splash of the drops wetting the tops of her boots. Knee-highs for this weather. She had a pair of heels tucked away in her handbag for later, the boots looked good on the street but were not practical for the bar where she would meet her friends.

She wondered what they would say when they saw her face this time. Would they again ask her to leave? Find another? They were worried that it would kill her one day but what they didn't realise is that she was in love.

The bus pulled to the curb and she ran the few yards to the open door and leapt inside. Even in 4 inch heels she was light on her feet. Like a cat prowling, but because of her diminutive size, often mistaken for a kitten playing. Many underestimated her. Today, he had underestimated her too.

As did the bus driver who looked her over, and spotting the patch job covering her eye, shook his head slightly with an expression of silent concern. She had noticed this often in people, concern at her appearance but whatever they were thinking nearly always remained unsaid.

There was only one time in recent history someone had the courage to speak. An elderly woman that was on this very bus line who knew from experience. 'A man that chooses to hurt a woman, is no man at all.' she had said matter-of-factly. Can't fault her there.

She chose a seat by the window, unbuttoned her coat and sat down. Her skirt slid up a little and exposed more of her thigh. She watched as a guy sitting facing her visibly licked his lips and gave a wry smile. She just turned away and looked as rivulets of water ran down the window pane.

In this weather, the lights from the city sparkled of all over all of the wet surfaces and from inside the bus without the wind, it was beautiful. She imagined it to be a world devoid of the horrors she had seen and heard about daily. The things the kids dealt with daily reminded her of the lies the lights covered.

A few drinks with friends would help. It had been ages since she had been out and was looking forward to losing a little of the care and living a little of the lie in the lights of the club herself. Pain followed by pleasure. Balance.

She just had to stop by the club to pick up her phone. In her haste to get home she had left it in her locker. Like most these days, she felt naked without it and going to a club minus phone just didn't happen anymore. After all, who knows who she may run into.

She pressed the call button and a moment later the bus pulled up to the curb. Thankfully the stop was outside of the gym. Keys at the ready, she jumped across the pooling water and made a dash for the front door. Fumbling with the lock a little in the darkness she felt the key slide in and click with a twist and she hurriedly swung the door open enough for her to slip inside.

She shook the water from her shoulders and noticed they still hadn't replaced one of the florescent tubes over head as it flickered randomly like an angry firefly. She then turned to shut the door behind but it was held firm and then ripped from her hands. A large dark shape barreled in and knocked her hard to the ground making her 100 pounds slide across the worn wooden floors. and under the broken light.

The shock of the moment took her breath but she recovered fast and sprung to her feet as quickly as her boots would allow. Stupid, impractical boots she thought.

He stood there silhouetted, the flickering light shining off his wet nose, the rest of his face darkened by a Seahawks hoody. It didn't matter, she knew who he was. It was the one who had slipped one through her guard and clipped her eye.

"Show your face, I know it is you."

He raised his hands and drew back the hood, the pistol he held glinted in the dim lights that stayed on during the nights. She hadn't noticed the gun in his hands, now she felt the fear creep in. No matter what training she had, no matter how many sit-ups, lunges, or sessions on the heavy bag. No matter how many times in the ring, she couldn't stop a bullet.

"You don't need that, we can sort this out." she said.

He stepped into the light and he could see that he was tormented by the situation. She could see that he was unsure about his next move, unsure as to whether he could fulfil his plans. This was her window, her opportunity and she knew that when it came time, she would have to spring and take the risk.

"I have to. I have to do this. They are making me. They said they can't have no one represent them that gets beat down by a girl. They are all I got, they my family, miss. They got my back, I gotta be a man." Tears streamed down his face.

She had caught him earlier that day at the back of the club attempting to rape a young girl. Part of a gang initiation she later found out. When she surprised and kicked him off the helpless girl, he had swung wildly with a flurry of anger and shock before running off down the alley. She had a feeling there would be repercussions. There is always a price to pay for actions, even good actions.

"Let's talk about this. You know I had to stop you right?"

"I know, I know. You helped out my little cousin, you don't deserve this. But I gotta. I need the rep, I ain't got nothing else." he sobbed. "Perhaps if when I was a kid if I had someone like you..." He raised a hand to wipe the tears from his vision.

This was it. She bounded forward with all of her might, closed the gap in a split second and slammed her body with all she had into his stomach. He was knocked sideways and the gun slid from his hands and clattered to the ground. She bolted to the door and flung it open so it smashed on its hinges against the wall behind.

She didn't know if he was following but she dare not chance a look. Her feet pounded the sidewalk but the beating rain muffled their sharp crack of metal tip on concrete.

A shot rang out and a whizzing sound flew past her ear. She instinctively ducked and dodged to her side, perhaps it was the life of boxing that taught her to keep moving, quick feet, float like a butterfly... Her heel snapped and she collapsed into the wet pavement skidding onto her knees.

...Sting like a bee. Another shot rang out and her shoulder felt a hot needle slide through it and then the pressure of the hardest punch she had ever taken. She could not breathe. and then another bee sting and she looked down at her stomach as a pool of blood turned her white dress red.

She looked to the side and saw her reflection in a store front, lit by the lights of the display. She looked tiny and insignificant. She felt it as her body fell forward into the grime of the street. With the last of her energy she rolled over and stared into the rain as it pounded cold onto her face. Until a shadow filled her vision.

She looked into his eyes. "You are no man."

One more shot.

Taraz
[ a Steemit original ]

This is the sixth in the Halloween series: Random acts of Violence.

*This is dedicated to @arbitrarykitten who I don't know well but hopefully after killing her will have some time to get to know her better.