The Dream
My TypeA dark alley.
A hooded man.
A young girl walking-- her pace starting to get faster as she noticed the man following her and cutting their distance closer. Fear started to envelope her as they reached a dead end. Thoughts of danger running through her mind. Why did she have to work the night shift? Why did the convenience store have to be that far? Why was there no one to save her? It was incoherent. This was something she never thought she'd experience, something she only saw in movies. She stopped. It was really a dead end now.
"What are you doing out so late at night, little girl? Don't you know it's dangerous? Come with me and I'll take you home..."
In this dream, she couldn't speak, she couldn't scream, she could only watch the perpetrator close the gap between them and grip her shoulders hard with his filthy hands. It was scarier than anything she could ever imagine. He started undoing her uniform, almost making it to the 3rd button when...
"Get your dirty old hands off of her" a familiar voice said.
"And who is this little kid telling an elder what to do, huh?" The man confidently spat back.
"I'm her boyfriend" he said bluntly, almost mockingly, and the older man only laughed at this.
"Well, forgive me, but I guess I'm going to be tasting her before you d..." He was unable to finish his sentence as a punch found its way to his face.
"Go! Run fast!" He said, back still turned against her, she was only able to see a glimpse of his face and
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