Preface

There are times in our lives that we sometimes need to step up and do what is right. Sometimes it may not be what we want to do, but in the end, you know that it is the right thing to do. Of course, what you think is the right thing can end up being the wrong thing. However, you do not know that it is the wrong thing until it is too late. Then, when it is too late, you are unable to make changes to make it right again.

Then there is doing the right thing for the wrong reasons and vice versa. But how does one really know what the right thing is, when so many people are telling you that it’s wrong?

That is, until one person walks into your life and you realize that it doesn’t matter anymore - right or wrong. In the end, all that matters is just doing it.

And so the story begins. Of a wrong, trying to make it right, to find out it was wrong, until he said that it will be alright.

That Night

She sat on the corner of the bus stop, her hands tangled together. She looked down at her torn clothes, tears slipping down her cheek, mixing with blood. Every sound she heard brought back the memories from just a few short hours ago. The dripping water was like the slight slapping of bodies. The slight breeze seemed to be like the whispers in her ear.

“Be very still, Becca,” he whispered in her ear.

And so, that is what Becca did now, she sat still, numb from the inside out. Not sure what to do next, only that she felt filthy, dirty. She just sat on the bus stop bench staring off into space, not really looking at anything, but trying hard not see the images of the three men that have been tearing at her earlier at the party.

Rebecca Davis looked up at the sound of soft footsteps in the distant. She sat up straighter, her body becoming tense, afraid to move, yet afraid to stay. The footsteps became heavier, the pattern getting quicker. To scream or to stay quiet, those were her only options. Three hours ago, staying quiet did her no good, but on the isolated street in the wee hours of the morning, screaming will probably not help either.

“Is this seat taken?” a man’s voice said quietly with a hint of an English accent.

Becca shook her head slightly, refusing to give the man any sort of attention. Eyes and head down, that is what she was planning.

“What time will the next bus come?”

Becca shrugged her shoulders. She could sense the man moving slightly on the bench to give her a full look. She knew that he was studying her disarray of clothing, the hair dishelved, cuts on her neck and the black eye. Not to mention all the dried blood.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Becca forced a smile. “Fine,” still refusing to look up.

“I know that you’re not okay, Rebecca.”

Becca shot her head up and looked at the man who came and disrupted her peace, trying to figure out how he would know her name, let alone a name that only people used when they were angry, mainly her parents. The startling green eyes where bright, full of passion and concern. His hair was a mess of blond curls; the same curls that any female would love to run her fingers in during an intense kiss. His shoulders were broad, but he did not appear to be athletic. The black coat that he wore covered up just about all of him, holding the cold away. Becca shivered, remembering that her own jacket was left back at the party.

“H-how d-do you know my n-name?” Becca asked quietly, her eyes still locked on the green eyes.

The man shrugged his shoulders. “Lucky guess?”

Becca shook her head. “Not that lucky.”

Just then the bus that she has been waiting for that would take her back to her home in North Atlanta, showed up. Becca stood up and walked to the open doors. She put one foot on the step and turned around.

“Aren’t you…”she started, but realized that he was no longer there.

She searched the streets in both directions and there was not a person anywhere, let alone the blond hair man with beautiful green eyes and dark trench coat.

Becca climbed aboard and leaned her forehead against the cold window. She took a deep breath trying to figure out what just happened and who was this mystery guy that appeared to know her. She closed her eyes and his face flashed in front of her the most prominent feature being his eyes - bright and green.

Rebecca Davis thought that she would never make it home and for once, she was pleased to find her home quiet and absent of her mother. As she put the key in the heavy oak front door and turned the knob, the alarm went off immediately. She stepped inside the grand two story foyer and reached to her left keying in the security code. The alarm quieted. Becca did not even both with the lights, but stumbled up the spiral staircase to the second floor and then turning left into her room.

She felt dirty standing in the all the white and cream color room. She kicked off her tennis shoes and unbuttoned her shirt. Finally, in the quiet sanctuary of being in her home and her room the numbness began to wear off. The tears that was stinging in her eyes finally beginning to spill. She walked the short distance to her private bathroom and flipped the light on. Taking in the image before her, her heart began to crumble, her body turning weak. Very quickly she took off her shirt and jeans, bra and panties. She did not want anything on her that would remind her of those three boys. The three high school football team star players.

The pile of clothes gathered around her feet and she picked it up stuffing them into the small garbage can. She was already thinking about taking them downstairs to be put in the morning trash pickup. Now, as she stood in the bright florescent light of her bathroom, she could fully see the damage that was inflicted, and boy did she look to be such a freight. Her long brown hair, usually perfectly straight and parted just so was tangled and had twigs and grass sticking out of it. Her face already began to bruise around the eye and her lip. A small cut around her right ear and blood leaking slightly from her mouth, now dried.

She held her arms out and could see the hand prints on both sides of her ribs and on her arms, from where they were holding her down. She turned sharply, seeing enough. Her body was broken, and all she wanted to do was forget that tonight ever happened.

Becca reached in and turned on the hot water, stepping into the shower, ready to wash the grim and dirt away. She picked up her sponge and squirted on her favorite orange bath soap and began to scrub, starting at her feet and moving up. She wanted it gone. She scrubbed so hard and so fast that she knew her skin was bound to begin to blister and pull away. She did not care though. She would scrub all through the morning if it meant that she would feel clean again.

Finally the water ran cold and she turned off the tap. Stepping out she gathered up her white terrycloth robe and wrapped it around her. She ran a brush through her hair as she walked across the plush white carpet. Once she sat on the bed, she felt drained, tired, but afraid to close her eyes. Pulling the heavy comforter up over her, she curled into a fetal position and cried. And there she stayed. Falling into a fretful sleep full of nightmares, but always in the end, the bright green eyes stared out at her.

Rebecca woke with a start, not knowing how long she has been sleeping. She flipped over and looked at the bright neon colors of her alarm clock and noticed that it was close to one. She did not know however if it was in the morning or afternoon. Her room was dark, but between the blinds and the heavy curtains, it could be high noon and one would never know.

She flipped the covers off and went to stand up, a blood rush ran down her and she began to see silver fish in her vision. She placed her hand on her head to try and steady herself.

“You might want to stay seated,” a voice came from the dark corner of the room, a voice that seemed somewhat familiar, when it should not have been. Sounding like the same English accent from the bus stop.

Becca self consciously pulled her robe tighter around her bare body. She could feel fear ride up from her toes, her heart rate quicken, yet at the same time, she felt relaxed and calm. A part of her knew that who this voice belonged to would not do her any harm.

She turned slightly in the dark to the far corner of the room where she thought the voice came from, but there was not any one there. Becca flicked the bedside lamp on and looked around, standing up slowly and turning. Her room was exactly as she left it. The bed still somewhat neatly made, her shoes kicked off by the door. She could see her clothes piled in the trash can in the bathroom, and there was not anyone in the room.

Rebecca let out a small sigh, blowing her long bangs out of her eyes and sat back down on her bed.

“Just a dream,” she said to herself.

She curled back up onto her side and closed her eyes slightly, this time keeping the small lamp light on and for the many nights to follow.