Pulse

TWO -PIPER

"Help her," I whispered, but the words were swallowed by the void between us. Nobody turned. Nobody saw. Or maybe nobody cared.

"Help!" The woman's voice reached for salvation, grasping at straws that didn't exist.

"Someone should do something," I muttered, my own voice foreign to my ears. Thoughts raced, scenarios played out—all ending with her pain, her humiliation.

I tightened my grip on the book, the edges digging into my palms. Fear rooted me to the spot, but within its icy embrace, something else stirred—a fierce, unfathomable need to act.

"Hey!" My shout was a stranger, bold and daring. "Leave her alone!"

The men paused, shock rippling through their drunken stupor. The woman's eyes found mine, wide and pleading.

"Get away from her," I said, stronger now, the quiet corners of my soul rising in defiance. "Now."

The book slipped from my hands, its pages fluttering like a bird in distress. I crouched behind the dugout, heart pounding against my chest—a frantic drummer playing the prelude to an act of defiance. My fingers found the zipper of the duffel bag, yanking it open with a violence born of necessity. The contents—a jumble of sports gear and misplaced dreams—spilled before me.

I seized the biggest bat, a solid weight of aluminum that promised retribution. It was cold, unyielding, a stark contrast to the tremors that danced through my limbs. Tap, tap, tap—the rhythm against my palm grounded me, steeled my resolve as I stood.

"Hey, jackasses!" The words exploded from me, raw and jagged. I stepped forward, the bat an extension of my trembling rage.

"Leave her alone!"

The men turned, their leers dissolving into confusion. They hadn't expected a challenge, certainly not from someone like me. But here I was, heart ablaze, a quiet girl no longer silent.

"Who's this?" sneered the ringleader, his eyes narrowing as he appraised me—a specter risen from the shadows. "You her knight in shining armor?"

"Something like that," I retorted, ignoring the way my voice shook.

Laughter erupted from one of the guys, harsh and mocking. He drained the last of his liquor, the bottle glinting under the harsh streetlights before he tossed it carelessly away, shattering against the pavement. The sound of breaking glass echoed through the tense air, a fragile moment shattered.

"Looks like we gonna have two screaming beneath us tonight," the ringleader joked with a sinister grin, glancing between me and the woman on the ground.

I recoiled in disgust, gripping the bat tighter. My stomach churned at the vile insinuation, bile rising in my throat. But fear was quickly being replaced by something fiercer, something primal.

"Not happening," I spat out, my stance widening, ready to swing if need be.

The woman behind them stirred, her plea silent but visible in the moonlight reflecting off her tear-streaked face. It fueled my courage, lending strength to my resolve.

"Leave—now." The command left no room for argument, my voice steely and determined. The men exchanged glances, their drunken bravado waning under the weight of my unexpected defiance.

"Or what?" the ringleader challenged, taking an unsteady step forward.

"Or you'll regret it," I said, the threat hanging heavy in the air between us.