Two days later
I wrapped the box in brown paper and sealed it.
For your girlfriend. I hope she likes it.
– Octavia.
Those were the only words I wrote on the paper. I placed the wrapped box in the American mail box in the post office and left. It was dark. When it's dark out, a woman doesn't usually walk alone. Men like to talk.
I saw a man dressed in jeans and a cotton shirt. He was staring at me. First he was staring at me, then his little lad was staring at me. Then a couple seconds later they started following me. Good fucking god.
"I thought women wore dresses, aye?" One of them yelled after me. I closed my eyes and grabbed onto my gun, hoping I wouldn't have to fire it. I continued to walk down the street, turning to my house. It wasn't such a great idea. It was stupid to turn so close to a wall.
"You're not going to answer us?" one of them held my wrists, throwing the gun about three yards from me. "Rob, I think this is the girl that works for Shelby. The one Hughes told us about." his partner looked at the wrinkly man. "I thought Shelby went for the whores," I protested against his restraint on my wrist. He pushed me into the brick wall harder.
Blood ran down my wrist from the constant squirming I was doing. "Oh come on Rob, why can't we have a little fun with her first?" The man said, running his fingers down my torso to my belt. The older one held my legs down with his foot as he undid my belt. I squirmed in his grip, starting to yell. His fist came over my mouth in no time, shutting me up. I think this is the first time I've actually felt scared in my life.
His hand then moved to my vest, undoing the buttons to my shirt underneath it. "Such a pity you don't work in the whorehouse, love." he looked me in the eye, right before pressing his hand to my mouth and his lips to my neck. "I'd come see you every night." tears brimmed my eyes, seeing one man hold me down and the other one touch me. I never wanted to feel it again.
"Octavia?" I looked over the man's shoulder, seeing Thomas look at me. The two men looked at him.
"Nothing to see here, blinder. Keep moving." the man didn't even face him.
"Octavia, do you want these men on you?" he asked. I shook my head. That's all it took for him to grab the shoulder of the man on my wrist and strike him in the face. Since my hands were free, I got the other one in the throat. He stumbled back onto Thomas and was struck unconscious by him.
My knees started to buckle and I fell to the ground, dirting my pants from the gravel. I was crying. It wasn't silent tears like usual, it was sobs. My heart was beating out of my chest and I hugged my knees closer to me. I buckled my belt and closed my eyes, hoping to be left alone. But when somebody does something for you, they want something in return.
"Octavia," Thomas lifted my chin up to face him. I pushed his hand away. "Octavia," he grabbed my chin so I looked at him. Tears rolled onto his hand as he saw me cry. He helped me up, walking with me up the stairs to my house. It had only been ten steps from where I lived. If I had been faster it wouldn't have happened.
I took off my vest and the button up underneath it, leaving me in a white t-shirt and dress pants. Thomas stood in the middle of the foyer, watching me throw my clothes in a dirty close bin and look for alcohol. "What do you want, Thomas?" I asked, grabbing whiskey from the cabinet. Tears were still coming out of my eyes, but I wasn't sobbing anymore. It was just numb.
"Are you alright?" he asked, kneeling down to face me as I laid on my back on the couch. I rolled my eyes.
"Since when do you ever care about me?" I asked, a few tears leaving my eyes. He removed his jacket and set it on the chair, leaving him in a shirt and his trousers. "Huh? You probably came my way to see if I'd do something for you." I turned my back to him.
