Chapter 1
It was a warm night, and it’d been a fairly rough day.
I was a young woman who tried to have a child, and... I failed.
It was not because of neglect or abuse, no; I miscarried because of an unseen problem.
I had been in the hospital for over a week from the ordeal and stress.
I wasn’t having any bullshit, and my boyfriend was worried for me, but I had grown very distant.
We trudged our way down to the subway to catch a train home.
Who owned a car in New York, anyway?
As we got there, we saw a large group of people of mixed colors and races.
My boyfriend said, lets go another way, but I jerked away from him.
“I’m no different from them!” I yelled and went and stood by a dark-skinned woman.
I could not tell her race, but she didn’t care about me, but she threw my boyfriend a dirty look as he threw his hands up in the air and stayed where he was.
I looked around the group of people and, to my confusion, they all were staring at me.
“What?” I asked with a bit of harshness to it.
The man across from the woman was black and looked at me and said.
“Bitch, you ain’t got no goddamn business being down here at this hour, you crazy?” he said, looking at me as if I was indeed crazy.
I just shrugged; I didn’t give a damn at all.
“Do you got any idea what people here will do to a pretty thing like you down here?” he said, moving towards me with a smirk.
He got within arm’s reach, and in a flash I had pulled out my knife and grabbed his hoodie and thrust the blade to his throat.
“Do you have any idea how many fucks I don’t have?” I said, gritting my teeth.
Before either of us could react, we all heard a cry ring out into the night.
I let the man go, and he muttered, “crazy bitch” before vanishing into the night.
My boyfriend ran over to me and asked if I was okay.
I said I was fine; I can handle myself just fine.
He told me he refused to let us go this route and would find a new one.
I told him, “Fine, be a pussy.” I’m staying here; you can go find another way home.”
He looked at me with hurtful eyes and took my hand, which I yanked away.
My heart ached still so badly I could not face him, touch him or anything without getting set off.
The doctors wanted me to stay longer to help me with my temper after the miscarriage.
I told them all I just want to go home.
I was under suicide watch just in case...it only pissed me off more.
My boyfriend was attempting again to take my hand when we again heard a cry ring out.
My heart beat faster; something felt wrong.
The people in the back were breaking out into whispers, and a few men had run over to the group.
The men were yelling and pointing at the subway below.
I walked over to them with no care; maybe there had been an accident?
They turned on me as I arrived, like a rabbit to a pack of wild dogs.
“What the fuck do you want?!” said a large black woman.
“What is all the fuss about?” I asked.
“There is a crazy-ass cracker down in the subs killing kids, I heard,” a man said from the left side of me.
A few people laughed.
“Man, that’s just some made-up bullshit,” said a man in the back.
“Bro, no for real, I heard the screams; the son of a bitch is at it again!” said the man in a scared tone.
“Where is this fucker?” I asked.
“It’s just a dumbass myth, cracker, calm down,” he said, laughing.
Before he could come back with a smart-ass remark, we heard another scream.
This time it was louder and closer.
That was all I needed.
I took off running toward the scream and just ignored the insults and the pleas of my boyfriend.
I ran all the way down the darkened alley to the subway.
The path had been closed off; what the hell?
Another scream rang out!
I left all senses behind and bolted across past the taped-off area and down into the dark abyss.
The scream was getting so much closer.
Pitch darkness engulfed me, and my heart was racing a mile a minute.
I crashed hard into something and felt around; it was the toll bar.
I jumped over it and continued my search for the source of the scream.
“HELLO!” I yelled out and heard my voice echo.
The darkness almost hurt; it was so bad.
I stumbled around to find a wall, and when I did, I kept following it until I saw a faint light ahead.
I quickened my pace to the light, and as I got to it I stopped dead in my tracks.
A pale white man was choking and slapping a small boy in the dim light.
The man didn’t look human hardly.
His eyes were almost all black, with skin pale but rough and had coarse black hair.
He let go of the boy and leapt at me.
I didn’t think; I just reacted...
My hands gripped his throat, and I squeezed hard, digging my nails in.
“How...does...it...feel!” I said through gritted teeth and kept pushing on his throat until my nails tore in and nasty blood spilled out.
He kicked my leg, and I lost my hold.
He went to swing at me, but I dodged it and gave a blow of my own.
An uppercut to his chin and then took out his knee.
He fell down onto his back, and with all my rage I started stomping his face in.
I hit him with all the force I could muster and didn’t stop until his face was nothing but mush.
I looked at the boy, who looked at me scared.
I held out my hand and smiled.
“Let’s get you home; the wicked man will never hurt you again.” I said calmly.
He backed away into the corner and hid his face and cried.
“Hey, it’s okay; you don’t have to be scared anymore.” I said as I stepped towards him.
“No, go away. You’re a monster too!” he cried.
I lowered my hand...
I took out my cell and called my boyfriend and told him what I saw and did and to send help.
It was an hour later; I was sitting on a bench and still staring at my hands.
All the people who had been assholes to me earlier had come and told me they were sorry, but I could not stop looking at my hands.
A paramedic said I was in shock and would recover...
They found the boy’s parents, who thanked me, and I could not face them...
The boy’s words rang out in my head, never ending.
The look on his face his pure terror...
“Are you the one who killed Peter?” said a man dressed in a black suit.
I looked up at him, and all I could do was stick out my hands and cry.
He took my hands and wiped the blood from them with an old- fashioned white hankie.
“Peter got what he deserved, thank you,” he said and left.
I put my hands down and saw he had put a card into my left hand.
I flipped it over and read it.
“Life does not always go well, but no matter what, know that being a hero is never easy.”
I cried.
I’m so glad I never had my child... this world is too cruel.
