My heart pounded as I leaned against the grey weathered wall, my arms spread out and my nails clawing against it. The beating of my heart reminded me of the rhythm of a drum rising steadily at a traditional African ceremony.
I could see my lips moving as the three burly men stalked towards me, backing me into a corner. I could read the words on my lips, begging the men to let me go. That was the most painful part; begging for something that you knew you wouldn't be given. At that moment the only thing I could think was "Why me? Why is it always me?" I am a good person. I am forever tolerant and patient. I have never wronged anyone in my life. So why did all bad things happen to me. Is there something bad that I did in a past lifetime, was I a terrible person before? I honestly don't know.
In a flash of movement, one of the men had moved and I felt a sharp cold metal embedded against the skin of my neck. The knife quickly turned warm from my own blood. I felt my heart race even faster, my breathing close to frantic.
"Scream and you are dead, sugar pie. I'll slit you and carve you like a rump of steak", his raspy voice registered in my mind. I didn't dare move because I might just be signing my death certificate. I looked around the alley frantically, searching for a way out. I remembered the ring around my middle finger and twisted to a perpendicular position on the top of my finger. I did not hesitate to deliver a blow to the rat's nose and I heard the unmistakable breaking of the nose. The knife dropped from my neck and I made a run for it. My eyes were set for the open route, and I would lose them easily in the crowds.
I felt a blow to my head and my feet gave out under me. Rough hands gripped my ankles and I was pulled back into the depths of the alley, my screams echoing around the dark and dreary night.