Falls to Climb

"Romantically, you'd martyr me

And miss this story's point

It is my strength, my destiny

This is the roll that I have chosen.

Someone has to take the fall

Why not me?"

With a spring in her step and humming along to the upbeat song blaring from her ipod, Rachel made her way home through the dimly lit streets of Lima. An insistent buzz suddenly grabbed her attention as she reached for her phone.

"Dinner is nearly done, home soon? Love, Dad."

Sighing she replaced the phone in her pocket and turned down the alley which would save her a lot of time. Having an active imagination had always been a part of Rachel's life. From her huge Broadway dreams to her superstitions of not passing under ladders and her avoidance of alleyways that could contain any number of potential dangers. Knowing her fathers were cooking one of her favourite meals; a roast vegetable vegan-friendly pizza, she decided to hurry home, as vegan cheese was not particularly forgiving of reheating.

Suddenly startled by her earphones being ripped from her, Rachel spun on the spot only to be shoved harshly against the wall.

"You fucking listen to me when I talk to you, you little bitch!"

Aside from the pain running through her arms she could smell the undeniable stench of alcohol. She was torn between trying to appease this guy so he'd let her go and thoughts of trying to turn and out run the stumbling giant. As she turned, deciding to attempt the latter, a brutish hand shot out and grabbed her by the shoulder before blinding pain shot through her back. She hadn't noticed the man pull out a knife until it had already become well acquainted with her lower back. Gasping and trying to cling to the wall beside her Rachel crumpled to the ground.

"Not got anything to say huh? You look like the type to run their mouth." Rachel continued to try and ignore him silently; clutching her side and willing herself to pass out so she wouldn't have to remember whatever may come next.

"Oi!" accompanied a clumsy but forceful kick to her stomach. She groaned loudly trying to curl further up into herself.

"That's better, you going to be a good girl or a fucking bitch?" He began to loom over her, wrenching her hands away from her body and above her head. As he leaned closer the stench of what she would guess to be dark rum mingled sickeningly with the metallic smell of the blood trickling from her side and the damp mould that had long coated the walls of where Rachel began to think would probably be the last place she'd ever be alive.

She could feel her will to fight him off grow weaker as the image in front of her hazed and blurred. She identified what she could hear as being as if she were underwater, floating, and even the sharp pain began to feel numb and fuzzy.

"Don't you dare pass out! Fucking wake up!" He shouted, inches from her face drawing back a clumsy fist before it crunched carelessly into her jaw line.

Suddenly fear like she'd never felt before—not even before accepting her life would end here—coursed like ice through her veins. The sensation choked and smothered her before she became aware of something very odd. The repulsive man hovering above her eyes had widened and glazed over, face rapt with what she believed to be the same paralysing sensation she felt herself. Suddenly it evaporated just as quickly and swamped over her as she closed her eyes.