Page 99 of Almost Ours

We burst out beside the pond and my foot skids on the pavement, sending me sideways against the railing.

The girl barrels into my back and grabs my sleeve with both hands, sobbing so hard that each breath breaks apart in her throat. “Are they coming?”

“I don’t know.” I glance towards the opening we’ve just come through, but the bushes swallow most of the view and all I can see beyond them is blackness beneath the trees.

“Don’t stop,” I tell her. “We need people.”

The Shed isn’t far now, its windows bright through the branches. I can make out movement near the entrance, shadows crossing under the lights, groups gathered outside, but there is a long stretch of empty path between us and my legs have started to shake so badly.

She can’t keep a steady pace, stumbling every few steps and yanking hard against my arm each time she loses her footing, which means I keep having to slow down and pull her upright before pushing us forward again.

Another shout comes from behind us.

The girl makes a strangled noise and grips me harder.

“Don’t look,” I pant at her. “We can get to safety.”

We pass the bench where I stopped with the cramp, then the bin beside it, then the row of lamps leading towards the club. The further we get, the brighter the path becomes and the louder the music grows, until I can hear voices outside The Shed instead of one distant wall of noise.

A group of students are standing near the entrance, coats pulled tight around them while they smoke and laugh, completely unaware of us racing towards them.

Relief hits me so hard my eyes sting.

“Nearly there,” I cry out, tightening my grip on her wrist. “We’re nearly there!”

She nods and we push through the last stretch together, both of us breathless and half stumbling, until we are close enough that I know they’ll hear me.

Then I let out the scream, remembering a woman’s best weapon is her voice. “HELP! SOMEONE HELP US! WE’VE BEEN ATTACKED!”

People turn towards us from everywhere. Conversations stop, several of the boys near the entrance start moving and a girl drops whatever she’s holding onto the pavement, while the girl beside me clings on for dear life.

“What happened?”

“Are you alright?”

“Who attacked you?”

“Two men,” I gasp, pointing back towards the pond even though my arm is shaking so badly I can barely hold it up. “They wouldn’t let her leave. One of them grabbed me when I tried to help her. They’re back there somewhere.”

A few of the lads immediately look towards the path. “Where?”

“By the trees near the pond.”

“Someone call the police!”

A girl with braids comes straight towards the girl beside me, wrapping an arm around her when she starts crying harder, and for the first time since I heard that voice by the pond I realise nobody is touching me. Nobody is holding me. Nobody is blocking the way out.

We got away.

My legs are wobbling so violently I have to lock my knees, my breathing is coming out in horrible little bursts and when I look down there’s blood smeared across my knuckles that I don’t think belongs to me.

“Oh my God,” the girl sobs beside me. “You were so brave.”

I shake my head because I don’t feel brave. I feel sick.

“Are you hurt?” the girl with braids asks me.

“I don’t know.” It’s the truth. I keep glancing at the blood on my knuckles with this strange detachment, trying to work out which one of them I hit hard enough to make bleed.