Page 8 of Renegade

“What’s the matter, White Trash? Don’t they have showers in the trailer park?”

She’d yanked my damp hair and continued when I’d remained silent,“I’d just bet that with hair that red, your mom fucked a leprechaun. That true, White Trash? You got a pot of gold we should know about?”

I didn’t know what was different about today, but for whatever reason, I just didn’t feel like taking the abuse anymore. I waited for her to pause long enough to take a breath and then I grabbed her by the throat and walked her backward toward the lockers, nothing but adrenaline coursing through my body. Her posse’s laughter ended, but not one of them made a move to help their leader.

No, they’d all run screaming from the locker room as Becca’s head connected against the metal with a dull thud. I could still hear the sound in my head.

The storm died down outside and I realized that I could still hear the low thud. A floorboard creaked in the back bedroom and I knew that I hadn’t imagined it. Someone was in the duplex with me.

My eyes flew open, but I remained frozen on the couch. If they were looking for anything valuable, they’d realize soon enough that they’d picked the wrong unit.

The footsteps grew louder, as if the intruder was making no attempt to hide his or her presence. I briefly tried to remember if I’d left the bedroom window open, for all the good it did me at this point. I quietly slipped my sweater back on and tried to make myself disappear into the couch.

Maybe they’d find whatever it was they seemed to be looking for and leave. There was movement in the small den and I realized belatedly that there was more than one person inside with me.

I willed my body to remain still, hoping that they might not see me in the dark.

“See, what’d I tell ya? Home alone.” I recognized the man’s voice as the neighbor two doors down. The smell of cigarette smoke only confirmed his identity.

Just as I realized their true intentions and decided to run, hands were on me, pinning me back down to the couch.

“She’s feisty, I’ll give her that. Shhhh…calm down, girly. We just wanna have some fun with ya.” The other man spoke softly in my ear, as if there was nothing out of the ordinary going on.

I raked my fingernails down the side of his face in response and began kicking wildly. My neighbor’s hand came down across my cheekbone, stunning me.

That was when I began screaming.

The second man’s hand covered my mouth and my neighbor rocked back on his heels, laughing. “Scream all you want. No one’s gonna come running in here to save you.”

I bit down on his accomplice’s hand and tried to run for the door, but my neighbor caught me, pushing me face first into the dirty carpet. He held something sharp against my throat briefly before using it to cut through my sweater and bra.

He flipped me over onto my back and I saw the lust in both of their eyes. I knew what they were planning to do to me—I also knew they weren’t going to let me go after.

I raced through my available options. Even if I made it outside, my chances weren’t much better. I didn’t exactly live on Sesame Street.

There was a loud knock at the door and the second man crept over to look through the peephole, while my neighbor held the knife against my throat again.

“Don’t even think about screaming,” he hissed.

That was it. I knew I could either die after being raped and tortured or I could get it over with immediately. I inhaled and screamed loudly. My neighbor must’ve been expecting me to remain quiet because in his shock, he dropped the knife and I rolled away from him.

It all happened in a matter of seconds. The door imploded, with shards of wood going everywhere, and I dove behind the sofa for cover. I had no idea if the person at the door was my savior or just another junkie with a penchant for teenage girls.

“Lauren!” The voice called out and I froze. It was Mr. Santiago.

Why the hell was he here?

I slowly poked my head over the sofa, using the worn fabric to cover my exposed parts. His shoulders relaxed once he saw me. The room was empty with the storm raging outside and lightning illuminated our faces every few seconds. My attackers must’ve booked it once he kicked in the door. “Hey there, Mr. Santiago. Didn’t know you made house calls.”

He surveyed the small room before his eyes came back to mine. “Jesus,Mija. You’ve been living here?”

I nodded and he gestured toward me. “Why are you behind the sofa? Come out.”

I nodded again, this time a little more shakily, as I began to realize what I’d just escaped. “Um, I don’t have anything…” I trailed off, hoping he’d catch my meaning.

His eyes widened and then immediately narrowed in anger. “Did they rape you?”

I shook my head and responded, “No, you uh—you got here just in time, Mr. Santiago.”

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