Page 31 of Twin Deception

Blinking faster, I tried to focus on that. I had to keep repeating it in my mind, like a mantra. I had to force that fact to the front of my mind.

That creep had such nefarious, terrible plans for me.

And this man saved me.

I had to view it like that. I had to remind myself over and over as I went stiff in shock.

I’m alive.

I’m okay.

I’m alive.

All thanks to my stalker, I could live to see another day, to paint another mural, to inspire others. I could continue on as a woman, not a victim. I wouldlive, not be a statistic of a raping and killing.

No matter how many times I repeated it in my mind, I struggled to actually accept it. The stark fear of losing my life and losing my dignity as a woman loomed too big to just forget about it. Cliché as it was, my fucking life had flashed before my eyes.

I’d never come that close to death, and I couldn’t simply accept that I’d escaped it, that I’d been rescued from experiencing the end of my life.

How was I supposed to adjust to this? How could I move on from such a close call?

Simple. Icouldn’t. The trauma of someone trying to rape and kill me was too huge of an ugly moment to just get over. My mind locked down. My body went numb.

Blinking quickly at the rain falling steadily, I stared at the man and tried to connect with reality. To express thanks and show my gratitude for his being my hero. To get up and run out of here, to put this experience behind me and lock it down to never feel that horror again.

“Isabel.”

I gazed at him, mesmerized by the movement of his lips as he said my name.

That was me. I heard him. I saw him speaking. Because I wasalive, not dead.

“Isabel.” He repeated it as he stepped over the body at his feet.

Still watching him, unable to move as my body shivered and shook, I hugged my knees as tightly as I could. I had to hold on to something or else I’d fall apart. I had to be grounded, somehow, so I wouldn’t fall completely into myself in this shell-shocked status.

“Come here,” he urged as he walked to me. Lowering his hand to me, he suggested that I take it and get up. But I couldn’t. Staring at him, numb and struggling to force myself to move or think, I sat there in the puddle.

“Isabel…” This time, my name was just a whispered plea. Maybe out of pity. But as he lowered to his haunches and reached out to me with both hands, I saw it as an offering of comfort.

“Here. I’ll help you.”

That jarred me. I shook my head slightly, snapped into focusing on him.

“Youdidhelp me,” I replied in a shaky whisper.

He nodded. “Yeah, now let’s get out of here before someone comes.”

Too numb to move, I let him put his hands on my sides, lifting me. Those hands that just killed for me were gentle now. Those hands that had rubbed me at the club were careful now.

I stood with him, too cautious as I uncurled and rose to my full height that was still less than his. He held on to me, hoisting me up but not shoving me to move any faster. My legs were stiff. My arms shook so hard, I couldn’t keep them steady. But none of that mattered. So long as I kept my gaze locked on his dark one, seeing the serious worry in his eyes, I could lean on him. I could know I wasn’t—after one of the worst experiences of my life—alone.

I wasnotalone.

He didn’t abandon me once I was standing. He’d saidweneeded to get out of here, notI. This lean and strong man was sticking with me and helping me to walk down the alley.

Over and over, he glanced at me. Each time he turned his head to peek at me, more water whisked off his face and flung out.

We were soaked. Drenched to the bone. I trembled from a tremor of fear, but he was confident and smooth, steadily and bravely leading me away from the body of my would-be rapist.

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