She lay in the rain, hurting physically and mentally, not able to move. She knew that she had to get up, she had to get home. Slowly, she got to her feet and began to stumble down the wet concrete road. It was then that she saw the car headlights breaking through the rain and fog. For a brief minute she thought it was him coming back and fear shot through her body. The car came closer through the rain and mist, the wheels creating a swooshing sound. She saw that it wasn’t his car. Her rain soaked figure with torn clothes, stumbling along the side of the road made the driver pull over next to her. The window rolled down.

“Hey, are you okay?”

She didn’t know what to do, it was as if her mind had stopped working. She continued to stagger down the road, the car backing up with her.

“Hey, you look like you’re in trouble. Do you need help? What happened to you?”

The word help suddenly clicked in her battered mind. Yes, she did need help, she needed it very badly. She turned and looked in the car window. He looked about her age, maybe a little younger.

“Are you okay?”

“No...I need...I need to get home,” she said sobbing.

She leaned against the car crying as he got out and came around to her side.

“Here, it’ll be okay, I’ll take you home, here get into the car,” he said openning the door and gently manuvering her onto the seat.

He went around and got into the driver’s seat as she sat next to him, crying, shivering and tightly hugging her bruised body.

“What happened, do you want to go to the police station?”

“No, I can't, I ....just want to go home... I don’t want to talk about it now,” she heard herself say, still confused and in shock.

“Okay, which way?”

As she told him the way, he reached under the seat and pulled out what appeared to be a small bottle of liquor.

“Here have some of this, it’ll make you feel better.”

Laura had never really drank before. She had once tried beer with some friends, but she didn’t like it. In this situation, however, she took the bottle and drank some of the dark liquid. It burned her throat, but she ignored it and took another swallow. She handed the bottle toward him, but he said,”no, no, go ahead and have some more, it’ll make you feel better. He was right about that. Her body began to feel warmer and she was able to stop crying. She took another drink and leaned back into the seat.

"Turn left here and go three blocks and make a right" she said, more clamly now and taking another drink from the bottle.

As the liquor started to work through her, she slowly began to regain her composure. She looked at him and saw that he was glancing at her legs. She pulled her skirt down and tried to close her ripped blouse as well as she could. She couldn't help but notice that he was quite good looking. If the circumstances were different, he was the type she might have dated. This relaxed her a bit. She leaned back in her seat and took another drink. He stopped at an intersection.

"You're really wet, I've got a towel in the trunk, let me get it," he said getting out of the car.

In a few seconds he was back with a dry towel. She had closed her eyes and was beginning to feel kind of woozy from the liquor. When she didn't respond to him handing the towel toward her, he very gently reached over and rubbed the towel over the side of her wet hair. She flinched for a minute and opened her eyes. But, he was so gentle and it felt okay as he lightly ran the towel through her hair. Her mind was a scramble of thoughts and emotions. She knew that this was her fault. A thought that she had hoplessly failed her parents took over her mind. They had loved her; she was their sun and moon. She felt filthy. She didn't ever want anyone to look at her again. She was dirty. She would never be wanted by anyone. No one would ever believe her. She was labled for the rest of her life. She opened her eyes again and recognized her street. She wanted to throw up. Her abdomin hurt, there was blood on the car seat between her legs, it was all dirt and filth; she was dirt and filth.

"It's the third house on the right," she said slightly slurring her words and taking another drink from the bottle.

He pulled up in front of her house while she leaned back and closed her eyes again, letting the liquor flow warmly through her. He continued to rub her gently with the towel, now drying her shoulders and upper arm. She didn't respond. She slipped into more random thoughts of her short dress and how she had known it was too short. I won't have a white wedding dress. I am so bad. Whore.

"You're very pretty," were the last words she heard him say before darkness slowly flowed through her mind and she passed out.

CHAPTER FIVE