The pale moon lingered in the almost morning sky.
She waited on the corner, her dark crimson trench coat doing its job keeping the rain off of the new black dress she wore beneath. Her hands held tight onto either side of the collar, holding them up against her face.
A brisk wind turned the rain sideways so it attacked her from above and on the left. She moved back away from the yellow curb into a dank doorway. The shadows dressed her crimson coat into a darker shade, but the street light above kept her matching shoes and the tip of her coat their normal color. She wished she would have at least brought along her hat. Her blonde hair soaked lying against her shoulders. She thought back on what her hair looked like before she left the apartment.
The bells rang. Pigeons flew away from the bell tower across the street. The largest of the old hands was facing up while the smallest hand pointed towards "4". She shook her head. He was late. He was always late. Later this time. Later than ever before.
The bells rang four long times and then it stopped. The quiet sounds of the rain hitting the pavement was all that was left. Then a low hum of an engine.
She didn't look as the lights glanced past her.
He wouldn't have been so dumb to leave the lights on. Not these days. Not with "Them" watching.
She looked again at the clock.
It didn't feel like an hour had passed. It was getting colder. She could feel the cold air freezing her face and ears. She pressed the sides of her collar even tighter against her face. She couldn't get enough of her face into the collar. Moments later the soft sound of the rain was gone and the street fell silent.
White flakes of snow started to fall from the darkened sky.
Another hum coming from down the street. No sign of anything coming her way. The hum grew closer.
It was him. It had to be.
The silver car rolled up in front of her.
Finally she smiled and moved quickly to the car. She bent over to look in the window as she pulled open the door.
It’s not him.
She shrieked as she was taken from behind. A hood placed over her head. Her hands bound behind her back.
Where did they come from?
The smell inside of the car. It was smoke. Cigar smoke.
It was “Them”.
She felt her coat buttons pop from their place as they ripped her coat apart. Her black dress hid her in the darkness of the car until they passed under streetlights. The world was dark to her nonetheless. She kept her eyes closed as she lay there with the hood over her face. She tried to squirm.
Hands held her down. Strong hands.
Why did she wait so long? They had a plan. If he wasn’t there by 3, she was to go home.
Too late for that now. The stench in the car was worse than just cigar smoke. Even under the hood she could smell it. She gagged on the smell alone.
What they going to do with her. She heard noises. Bodies rustling around in the car around her. Her dress was pushed up her legs. She tried to kick. No. Where was he? Why didn’t he show up?
She felt the penetration. She cried out.
The weight on top of her as she cried out felt heavier than what she imagined a car might feel like on top of her. Each time his body collided against hers a tear rolled down her face.
Why didn't he show up?
The man on top of her was done. He pulled away and she felt empty.
She felt the car stop. The door was opened. She was pulled by her legs. She fell to the ground hard.
The door closed and the hum of the car faded in the morning.
She worked her hands free and removed the hood.
The clock rang its long chimes; one, two, three, four, five, six, seven times.
Her heart sank.
She was empty.