The Baths of Times Square

Chapter 6 - Bexley

I wake up to the sound of my blaring alarm, and groggily open my eyes. What time is it? I look over. 7:01. The bed feels different. I look around, and realize that somehow my sheets got on the floor. How did that happen?

And then I remember.

I get dressed, brush my teeth, and splash some cold water in my face over the sink. I take a quick look at myself in the mirror. Too tall, yet too short. Frizzy black hair and dark skin. A big scar on my shoulder. I grab a tie and twist my mob into a loose bun, and then drape an NYU hat over it. There, that's better. I now at least look a bit more put together. I make my bed, grab my book bag and a granola bar and head out.

Not even I could have expected what would happen next.

I run out of the building doors, high-fiving Gus as I run down the street. I want to get to class early so I can talk to Mr. Peters about Thursday's presentation. I run as fast as possible, nearly dropping all of my books on many occasions. The wind hits my face like a cool blast, momentarily making me forget everything. I reach Times Square, and begin practically pushing people out of the way as I make my way through the sea of crowds. I move to the side of the crowd by the stores, hoping it will help me get by faster. As I reach the side I begin to run, my head down.

Until suddenly, I feel something push me against a wall with strong force. I fall back, my cheek scraping against the cement of the building. I turn, but the thing pushes me against the concrete. They are wearing a dark hoodie and black jeans, but I can't see their face. I rub my cheek and try to run away, but it grabs my hand and pulls me down an alleyway. "Help!" I call. "Help me!" But it continues pulling. I punch the arm with all my might, until we reach the end of the alley. They flail me onto the ground. "Goddammit Bexley," it curses, and pulls off it's hood. "Keo?" "Yeah, it's me." He rubs his hands together and looks both ways. Reaching into his pocket he pulls out a gag, shoving it into my mouth. I try to get up and run away, but he grabs my leg from behind and trips me, causing me to hit my cheek on the concrete. I feel my face throbbing. I try to scream, to spit out the gag. "Bexley," he pulls me up by my shoulder and spins me towards him. 

"Don't struggle. Just don't. I'm here to help you." No you're not! 

I hear a squeaking sound behind the fence to the left, and then two other people walk out. "Ryan, why the hell are you here?" "To see Bexley, of course," he smirks the way I always remember him doing when we were young. Keo runs over and, to my surprise, grabs Ryan by the ear and punches him squarely in the jaw. Ryan's friend yells as blood trickles out of the corners of his mouth. Ryan reaches over and tackles Keo from behind, and his friend runs over and grabs my hands, trying to pull me behind the fence. I struggle, I try to scream, my eyes teary.

"Help!"