Run.

That’s the one thing you don’t want to do in this city.

Running makes the psychos go into a frenzy. They love the hunt.

And so do I.

That’s exactly why I’m running from this rapist.

Because I want him to catch me.

The rain slicks my hair to my forehead, making me look scared but determined to get away.

The man chasing me thinks I’m a girl.

I’ve apparently let my hair grow too long.

I run into the alley; making sure there are no witnesses.

There are none.

I lay myself down on the ground as if I tripped and wait for the rapist.

He runs into the alleyway sees me and opportunity and pounces on me.

He quickly pulls down his pants but suddenly realizes two things.

This she is a he.

And this “he” has a knife.

I grab him what he was going to use to rape me with and cut it off.

His screams echo through the alley and into the city.

And then for a second everything is quiet. And the man realizes who I am. I’m the son of the woman he raped last month. Who wasn’t strong enough to stop him.