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Not Again Brenda limped around the corner onto Montgomery Street and stopped as if barked at by a drill sergeant. Ahead, a naked woman stood under a streetlight, her back to Brenda. Brenda’s first thought was that it might be a mannequin, a prank someone planned for the morning, when the sidewalk would be full of people rushing to work, like she used to. Her mind drifted to her days as a CPA, to a time before her beloved Will died in a war she never understood, a time before Sara, their only child, overdosed on cocaine, unable to deal with her father’s unfair death. She glanced at the sign in front of the Commerce Bank. 2:43 A.M. She stared up and down the boulevard, looking for someone to help the woman. Except for steam rising from the sewer drain in front of the bank and a few rogue newspaper pages blowing past, the street was empty. Sirens screamed in the distance. Trucks rumbled on the bypass overhead. Diesel exhaust assaulted her nose. She turned her attention back to the slender figure and walked halfway down the street. “You okay, sweetie?” Brenda rolled the cart holding her belongings next to the building, took off her coat and advanced like a soldier on patrol down a dark alley. “You’re going to catch a cold. Here, take my coat.” Brenda often walked the dark streets, especially when the shelters were full, like tonight. She rarely encountered anyone in this section of town. She held out the garment, but the woman remained still, defiant, back straight, chin up. “No thanks,” the woman said. “I won’t be here much longer. The police are on their way.” Brenda lowered the coat to her side. “You got a name? Silly me. Of course, you do.” A nervous laugh accompanied her comment. Brenda looked up and down the still empty street and wondered why the police were needed. “Mine’s Brenda.” “Camille,” the woman said without moving. Brenda backed up and tossed her coat into the cart. She knew better than to get involved. She had the bruises still to remind her of the last time she tried to help someone.. “Well, guess I’ll be going.” Brenda pulled the cart away from the wall. “Sounds like help’s on the way.” “It’s too late to help me.” Brenda turned to leave but stopped when the woman spoke. “He tried to rape me again.” Brenda noticed the blood when Camille turned around. Crimson blotches and streaks coated the woman’s chest and stomach. “I couldn’t let him do that, could I?” Brenda heard the sirens coming closer. Brenda retrieved the coat, walked to where the woman stood and wrapped the garment around the woman’s shoulders. “No, you couldn’t.” Brenda put her arms around the woman. “Not again.” | |
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