Page 33 of Last Breath

Pulling the butterfly knife out of my pocket and slowly rising, I stand behind him. Turning her eyes my way, the girl goes from fearful and ashamed to willful and determined. With a slight nod of her head, she understands I’m here to help. Setting the cool steel against his throat, the jackasses hands stop their invasion on her body.

I don’t give him time to call out, to request I save his life, or to bitch at me. It doesn’t matter. His own depravity is his downfall.

In that moment, no decision was made, no thought was given, and no care was given to the damage I’d inflict. I acted on pure instinct of right and wrong. Slicing quick and without thought, his sounds ended on a gargle.

Rising on the bench before he flopped forward, she jumped around the dying man’s body.

“Thank you. Thank you.” Her words choke on her gratitude and relief.

Gathering her arms around me, I hug her back. I don’t see myself as a hero, just the right person at the right time to help her. “No one else would have. It was the right thing to do.”

Unlocking the door and walking out, I grab up a long shirt hanging on the wall. “Here, put this on.”

Without a word, she slings it over her head. The poor young girl is obviously still in shock. Seeing that I’d stepped out of the stall, Mrs. Mary rounds the corner.

“Dearie, you’re still wearing—” She gasps and covers her mouth. “Dear Lord. What happened here?”

“Justice.” Picking two shirts off the rack she had outside my door, a blue bomber jacket, a pair of jeans and a sweater, I turn and hand them to Mrs. Mary. “I’d like to pay for these.” I motion to the girl. “And whatever she needs too.”

Now that she sees the state of the young girl, the blood seeping across the floor from the stall, and the blood being wiped off the blade against my aged shirt, she comprehends the state of affairs. At least, I think she does.

With her arm around the young girl, she coddles her toward the front of her store. “Oh my goodness, sweet child. We’ll get the police out here for you. Come wait out front with me.”

With that cue, I head for the front as well.

Setting the clothes on the counter, pulling off the tags and folding them up, Mrs. Mary stuffs them in a bag. “Here, take them all. No charge.”

“I have to pay—”

“No. You did something heroic for this young one, and I won’t accept your money.”

Turning to grab up her phone, she starts to dial and turns my way. “I’m assuming you don’t wish to be here when the police arrive?”

I gather up the bag. “Pretty much.”

“Then you best get going,” she states with a wink. “And you were never here.”

“Thanks,” I say as I toss on the jacket and start for the door. Grasping the handle, I turn and say, “Kiddo, don’t let this ruin your life. You’re strong. No one will hurt you again.” It’s a statement, but I wait for her to respond.

“No one.”

Good.

Wandering across the lot, making it over to the car, Salem opens the trunk for me and holds the door while I hop in the back.

Leaning on the chair, looking at me with a narrowed gaze, Malachi questions me. “You seem to have grabbed quite a few things. Was there a sale?”

“As a matter of fact, there was,” I reply, noticing the blood flecking my shirt.

“Did you run into trouble?” Salem inquires, smirking. Eying my shirt, he indicates the remnants of my clothing shop murder.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” I confirm with firmness.

Reaching my cheek, Salem smooths blood speckles off my face. “I’m sure you did.” Nothing more is needed to be said about it. Thankfully, Salem takes that as the end of the conversation.

Turning the key and starting out of the lot, the sound of distant sirens can be heard. I’m glad. This was the right thing to do, and I was at the right place. The pig raping a teenage girl in the back of Mrs. Mary's got exactly what he deserved.

No one could ever make me think otherwise.

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