Chapter 1: The Incident

I heard the piercing scream again, as I stepped out the front door of my trailer into the dim twilight. I couldn't immediately locate the source, even though I was sure it was close by. The second scream had been cut short, so I sprinted out into the unpaved street, gravel crunching underfoot, looking down the street from trailer to trailer. About three lots down I saw six to eight teenagers spread-out around a teen girl, who was on her knees and crying. The positioning of the attackers reminded me of a pack of wolves circling a prey. Although I had seen and felt my share of bullies, this was beyond anything I had ever witnessed, gang violence of a sort I had never imagined happening in this rural area of northwest Florida. Most of this understanding happened later, all that was in my mind at the moment, as I was running towards the group, was finding a way to stop and scatter the bullies. Surprisingly, there was not another trailer door opened, and no other adults on the street or nearby. The whole scene made me so angry that about halfway there, I screamed, to get their attention.

"HEY, WHAT DO YOU PEOPLE THINK YOU'RE DOING? STOP IT! DROP THOSE ROCKS AND LEAVE THAT GIRL ALONE! GET AWAY FROM HER! MOVE OUT OF MY WAY!"

I was angry and they could tell it. Thankfully, they scattered to all corners of the trailer park, doors slamming. By the time I got to where they had been, the only person remaining was the young girl on her knees, mud-splattered, bleeding from many small cuts. Her shoulders were heaving with her wracking sobs of grief. Her appearance and emotions hit me like a wave and set me back on my feet, stopping me flat-footed. Whereas I knew what to do about the gang attacking her, I was less sure about what to do about her. Although cut and bruised, she did not appear to be seriously hurt. She had mud caked in her dirty-blond hair and as best I could see in the dimming light no cuts or bruises on her head or face. The cuts and bruises seemed to be on her bare arms and legs and there was mud all over her thin, worn, unbelted dress. Remembering the scream, I was concerned that she might be bruised or wounded under the dress but it was impossible to see, at the moment, if she was physically hurt or just humiliated. Making a decision, I knelt down and wrapped my arms around her, hugging her to me. The sobbing girl, looking to be about twelve or thirteen, wrapped her arms around me burying her face against my chest, as if I was her protection against the cruel world. I pulled her close and gave her what comfort I could. She seemed to have already released most of her energy and I could feel her slight tremble as she struggled to bring herself under control. She looked up with bright and beautiful blue tear-filled eyes, as if asking me why people were so cruel?

Understanding clearly her question and not knowing what to answer, I was shamed that what had happened had been in a neighborhood that I lived in, and I hugged her more tightly to me. Finally, getting control of my own emotions, I helped her to her feet and asked her if I could help her get home. I said, "Surely you will feel better when you're back in your own place with your family."

It seems I said the wrong thing, because she started crying softly again as she almost whispered "My mom is my only family and she is still in bed passed out. She was out really late last night and she'll be mad as hell if I wake her up." She gave me a fearful look and then said, "She is going to kill me for ruining my dress and getting so dirty."

I tried to cheer her up by pointing out to her that her ruined dress and getting dirty was not something that she could have prevented. She looked up at me and said "It won't matter." I offered to talk to her mom and explain this but she shook her head saying "No! That will only make things worse." I wondered how any mother could seem so heartless to have put such fear into the heart of her own child. I asked her to show me where she lived and she pointed to an older, small, single-wide, trailer across the street. The trailer was a faded, ugly pea-green and almost had the appearance of being deserted. The yard was dirt and gravel, with no flowers or shrubs to soften the stark appearance. There was no car in the yard.

She pulled back from me, somehow sensing my feelings of anger towards her mom. I could see how fragile she was and I put my arm around her shoulder again as we walked to try to let her know that my anger wasn't with her. She seemed to understand and we started walking towards her trailer with my arm across her back and my hand around her opposite arm, giving her some support. As we got closer to her trailer, she seemed to hang back, only moving forward because of my momentum and prompting.

As we came to the door of the trailer, she turned to me and said "Thank you, mister," and hugged me again, wrapping her arms around my waist. I could feel her tremble as she pulled away and quickly went inside. It all happened so quickly, I had not even gotten her name. I paused in stunned silence wondering whether I should follow her inside.

I expected to see a light come on, but the trailer remained dark. I was puzzled and torn as to what to do next? It surprised me that I had become so attached to her in a matter of what must have been only 5 or 10 minutes. I mean, this was really none of my business. I winced at the thought of her being inside, alone in the dark. I pictured her reaching out to her mother just to be pushed away and being further hurt by one who should be loving and comforting her. Somehow I just couldn't move away and yet I didn't really have a reason to be there. I started to move away and then stopped short as I thought I heard crying coming from inside.

I knocked on the door, first quietly then with more force, as the crying seemed to grow louder with my knocking. I realized that no one was moving inside and I pushed the door open. The room inside was in shadows, with no light except the natural light of the post-twilight hour. I could dimly see sparse, worn furnishings, typical of the small rental trailers in the park. The place seemed clean, with the exception of several jumbled, overflowing baskets of dirty laundry near the front door. I flipped the light switch near the door, but nothing happened. I moved into the room, voicing a loud "Hello!" Hearing no answer, I slowly moved into the living room. The crying seemed to soften but it was loud enough for me to locate the young teen, lying on the couch. She was on her stomach, with her head turned towards me and had a ragged looking stuffed bear as a pillow.

As I got closer I could see tears glistening in her eyes, even in the darkened room. Her dirty dress had been thrown on the floor along with her shoes, leaving her naked except for thin, dirty cotton panties. I could see that she was thinner than most teens, which made her look younger naked than she did clothed. As I moved closer, her crying stopped and she sat up on the couch, looking at me with curiosity. As she sat up, I could see that she was definitely a young lady, with breasts larger than an 'A' cup but not quite a 'B'. Her nipples were quite small. I took all of this in, in a matter of seconds, but she noticed that I noticed her development. Rather than cover herself she acted if my being there were the most natural thing in the world.

"Are you okay?" My voice seemed loud in the semi-darkness of the small trailer. She nodded her head, first slowly up and down and then, more quickly, from side to side and then looked ready to cry again. My heart was torn by her helpless expression, so much so that I moved towards her, holding out my arms as I sat beside her on the couch. As I sat next to her she immediately wrapped her arms around me and pulled herself into me, pulling the side of her face into my chest. I put my arm around her and brushed her cheek and hair with my hand, trying to give her what little comfort I could. We just sat there for several moments as her breathing returned to normal. After those moments had passed I gently asked her, "Where's your mom, I think you should wake her up so she can help you with those scratches."