Her Savior

The city blurred around as her red hair got soaked from the piercing cold rain above. Olena Lovand could barely tell where she was.

Her heels clopped against the pavement as she ran forward ferociously. One hand pressed up against the side of her head which had a wound that had bugun to drip down her face rather quickly; warm blood had begun to coagulate in her hair. The other hand clutched a fox jacket around her body. Each step sent pain through her body. Her ribs screamed with every step, and if she wiped her nose, her fingers came back dark with blood.

This hadn't been the first time that this had happened, but it had certainly been one of the worst. She couldn't stop to think about it, knowing that he could be hiding within one of the streets. The men lined the tall buildings of nyc, and distributed it to everyone in a half-mile radius.

She stumbled out onto the sidewalk as horns blared from taxis, and people walked around under the glow of incandescent streetlights. No one stopped to give her a second thought.

Maybe that was better.

Maybe Jason was right behind her. The thought oushed hed forward which caused hed heels to catch against the uneven pavement. She tripped and was almost unable to stand as she leaned against the building.

All she needed to do was catch her breath.

She needed to run, but where? She looked around at the blurry streets.

She had left without thinking. She packed a bag and rushed through the door after he had come home particularly drunk. The only thing she knew was that she needed to get away from Jason before he came back.

She grabbed her coat, her purse; which luckily had her passport, birth certificate, and wallet. Nothing else. She just knew that she had to get away from Jason as fast as she could. She had left her phone on the marble tabletop to the right of the door when she heard his footsteps coming down the stairs.

She tried to remember what happened, but it was fragmented; he hit her in the head. He had come home rather drunk in his best outfit: a pair of black slacks and a matching wool jacket. He had obviously lost the deal and had drunk himself at the nearest bar. She remembered him yelling, glass breaking, and his hand around her wrist.

Then-

Running.

Olena swallowed against the bike rising in her throat as she continued to run. Her short green dress did little to fight against the cold, and now her long red hair laid completely soaked against her shoulders. Her dark green eyes scanned for a new street to go down as her legs burned with lactic acid.

She turned down a quiet, dark street without knowing why. It was the thinnest one she saw and the darkest. The chaos of the city dimmed behind her as she slipped between the buildings. The rats and other insects scared her as she tried to find a place to sit that wasn't too disgusting.

She slowed as she made it to the other end of the alleyway. The sidewalk on the other side had red light and loud music out front. He would cover her labored breathing and whimpers of pain. She pushed herself towards it. People meant witnesses.

She grabbed the nearest wall as her vision went black around the edges. The music grew louder as she looked at the sign above the back door.

The Last Unicorn

The name sounded cheerful, which felt ironic in her current predicament. She made her way to the sidewalk, which made her feel too exposed in her current predicament.

So she moved alongside the building. She leaned against it as she looked for help or anywhere she could hide.

Suddenly, the door swung open.

Olena froze.

A man stepped out in the alley.

One she couldn't make out the face of. Just a tall silhouette around a bulb of light swarming with bugs.

Her heart slammed in her ribs.

"Jason," was her first thought.

She stumbled backwards, catching her heel on the floor. The man turned her head towards her quickly.

"No!" She screamed.

She tried to run, but her body refused.

Her knees buckled as she caught herself against a brick wall. She stared as the stranger made her way towards her in the haze of her vision. He was tall. Black hair. Blue eyes. Pale skin. Muscular shoulders. A slim cigarette was perched between his thick lips as his high cheekbones cast shadows along his face.

He looked nothing like Jason. Still, her body shook regardless of what her brain told it. She pressed against the wall and sobbed as she knew that she could go no further.

The stranger looked over her body as he tried to figure out who she was.

He looked at the dark spots of red bruises, her bloodied nose, split lip, and darkened eye. Her green dress was ripped, soaked, and her heel broken. Through it all, she was still beautiful.

"Beautiful enough to work at his club," he thought.

He took a step forward, and she flinched. For several seconds, neither of them moved. The only thing that was breaking the otherwise deafening silence was the music from the club and the sounds of the city.

Then his deep, rough voice broke their tension. "Jesus Christ."

Olena stared at him.

He looked at her again, his eyes narrowing as though trying to understand how someone so badly injured had managed to make it all the way here.

For the first time since she'd run from Jason, Olena realized something: she had nowhere left to run.

The man stepped fully into the alley.

"Who did this to you?"