“Where are you, mom?”

​

I wrapped my arms around myself as I waited outside the train station, the cold late-February wind whipping through me and numbing my goose bump covered skin. After spending the evening with some friends who were visiting from out of town, my mom had offered to pick me up from the train station to save me the trek home. I was dressed to the nines in my four inch heeled boots and after being on my feet all day, walking an extra fifteen blocks with those things would’ve probably made me a cripple by morning. I was grateful for the kindness, but I wish she would hurry up just a little bit.

​

It had been about twenty minutes since I called her, and yet she was no where in sight. The streets were dark and desolate, nothing but the orange glow of the street light and the occasional avenue traffic illuminating the area. There was little I could do to distract myself from the eeriness, so I continued to stare down the street seeking out the familiar midnight blue mini-van.

​

“Hey,” an unfamiliar masculine voice suddenly broke through the silence. “A bus come through here at all?”

I wrapped my arms tighter around myself. “No, nothing’s come by.”

​

The short, stocky, balding man stood beside me in silence for a beat, his hands in his pockets to guard against the cold. He turned his head to look at me, his gaze sliding up and down my form slowly before meeting my gaze. “You look real sexy, ya know.”

​

Inwardly I cringed, but forced the rehearsed polite smile to my lips and averted my gaze as if embarrassed, taking a small step away from the strange man as I looked down at my phone. Still nothing from mom. “Thanks.” My voice was small and nervous, but probably sounded sheepish to the guy. I could only pray that such a curt answer would be enough to let him know I wasn’t interested, but still ‘grateful’ for his unwanted compliment.

​

“I mean, you look really good.” Apparently he didn’t catch the hint. I remained silent, smiling and nodding at him as I looked down the street. Where the hell is this woman? We live fifteen blocks away not fifteen miles. He still continued to speak. “You headed to your boyfriend’s?” 

​

“No, I’m heading home.” In hindsight, I should have just said yes. I don’t know why I thought telling the truth would help me out here.

​

“There’s no reason a beautiful girl like you should be heading home alone.” He slithered closer to me, his voice as slick and greasy as the skin on his face. I took another step back, shaking me head.

​

“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” How many pornos had this guy watched in which some unsuspecting girl outside a train station leapt at the chance to go home with some forty year old, balding man at midnight? Funny how a man’s wet dream is a girl’s nightmare.

​

“C’mon, babe. Don’t be like that.” My name is ‘babe’ now, apparently.

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“I really don’t think it’s a good idea.” I insisted, glancing down the street once again. Still nothing.

​

“How old are you?” Does he not know when to fucking quit? I said no twice. A terrified shiver ran down my spine as I looked around. There was no one else on the street except for me and this slime ball. 

​

“I’m 16.” I lied. I was actually two months short of my twentieth birthday, but people always said I looked really young for my age. Please, let that scare him off.

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He hummed in consideration, looking me dead in the eye when he spoke. “You’re old enough.”

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If I had less control of my body, I might have thrown up. Not only was he a creep, but he was a borderline pedophilic creep. Fucking wonderful. 

​

“Yeah, I really don’t think this is a good idea.” I put a bit more force behind my words, not breaking eye contact with the lecherous asshole. He seemed to whither ever so slightly at my change in tone, backing away. He sort of shrugged, turned to cross the street, and entered a deli on the corner. I didn’t know what he went in there to get, and frankly I didn’t want to know. All I knew was that he exited the store just as my mother had pulled up, and I all but ran to the car.

​

“Have a nice night, sweetheart.” He called to me, his voice causing the hairs on my arms to stand on end as I finally opened the vehicle door and slumped into the warm sear with a relieved sigh. He just had to have the last word. As if saying that would convince me to run into his arms and beg him to take me home for a night in a dirty, one room Brooklyn apartment. 

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“What was that about?” My mom asked. She sounded bored, which shocked me. I thought for sure that pulling up to see some strange, creepy dude chatting up your daughter would have been cause for alarm.

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“That guy wouldn’t leave me alone. He kept trying to get me to go home with him.” I was sure she’d react accordingly and assure me that I had nothing to worry about now. That I was safe and far from potential danger.

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She didn’t even take her eyes off the road. “It happens.”