Page 2 of Save Me

At this point, I know she’s going to run away, but she surprises me by using his weakened state to knee him in the face.

He collapses like a bag of bricks, a hand covering his face.

Then she narrows her eyes on the other two, who stand in front of me, but from my position on the ground, I can see her. Her posture is erect, one foot slightly in front of the other, and her body tense.

She’s ready for a fight.

That’s when it hits me. She’s not an angel.

She’s a warrior.

The pain in my ribs and the throbbing in my head dull. Instinct has me clawing at the ground to force myself upright. Breathing is difficult, but I use the side of the brick building to push myself to stand.

“I’m calling the police,” she says, showing her phone for reference.

“He’s not fucking worth it,” one of them says in Korean. He goes to help his friend, who is still writhing in pain, stand.

“Fuck,” Daniel, not his real fucking name, says. Then he points a finger at me. “If you ever show your face around here again, I’ll kill you.”

Finally, they take off in the opposite direction as my little warrior.

I don’t give a shit about his threats. I focus on the girl still standing in this dirty alleyway, looking ready for a fight.

She can’t be older than sixteen or seventeen.

She approaches me. “Are you okay?”

I don’t say anything because shame washes over me.

“Here,” she says soothingly as she hands me something. It’s a handkerchief. She tries to use it to wipe the blood away, but I jerk back.

She blinks.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” She holds out the handkerchief.

I take it, but then have to use my hand to lean into the brick wall.

“Those guys,” she gestures in the direction they ran, “do you know them? We have to call the police.”

“No!” That one word hurts like a bitch to say.

“Police,” she repeats. “Help.” She blinks at me and then wrinkles her forehead. “Shit, I don’t know the word for police in Korean,” she mumbles, thinking I can’t understand her.

“I-I speak English,” I tell her.

“Police,” she says again. “They can help get those—”

I adamantly shake my head and use the handkerchief to wipe the blood that drips into my eye.

“You need a hospital.” She reaches for me, but I wrench away.

I turn away because I don’t want her to look into my eyes.

I’m no one she should look at.

It’s time for me to go. To limp my way back to the tiny room I’ve managed to rent. Or, better, finish the job I came here to do. End it all.

Her voice breaks through my morbid thoughts, though.

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