Conflicted

Kate

Her whole body wracked with sobs and the trauma she was experiencing was evident. I hesitated in my rushed state. Surely, this girl needed help, but she was a stranger and I was already late. Would it be wrong of me to leave after I clearly witnessed her breakdown, or is that what she would prefer? Before my brain could decide what would be worse, the girl whipped her door open, got behind the wheel and peeled out of the parking garage. Her tires screeched against the cement and the sound echoed throughout the garage. Her SUV disappeared from my sight in seconds, leaving me with only one option: getting my ass to class as soon as possible. But something glued me to the spot. Moments after her car was gone, the door she'd come out of opened up again and spat out a shirtless guy who looked like one of the douches from the university. He looked around the parking garage frantically, and somehow I knew he was looking for the girl. When he didn't find her, he screamed and cursed loudly then turned and landed a punch onto the metal exit door. Turning back around, his eyes landed on mine and spit flew from his mouth as he screamed at me.

"f**k you looking at, skank?!"

I laughed, not even slightly phased by the semi-naked kid and his tantrum.

"Watching you fall apart, buddy. Now walk your ass back to your apartment before you hurt yourself." I instructed.

A sickening grin appeared on his face. If I were straight, and if these were different circumstances, I maybe would have found him attractive, but being gay and seeing him lose his s**t after making that girl cry, I could only see him for what he was: a cocky prick.

The asshole starts walking towards me and I don't even hesitate. I swing my bag off my shoulder and start shrugging off my jacket. I've been kickboxing competitively and as a hobby for nine long years. I teach a self-defense class for women at the YMCA downtown, and for whatever reason, I feel the need to defend that girl by putting this guy in his f*****g place.

He isn't expecting me to come at him and he falters, the grin dropping from his face. I stop a few feet away from him, snarling.

His bewildered expression is satisfying to say the least.

"Relax, I'm not about to hit a lady. You happen to see a pretty blonde leave here? I want to know which way she went," Douchebag demands.

"Nope. So far this morning, I've only encountered one shirtless little b***h in a parking garage, and I can't say it was a pleasant interaction," I spat back.

A furious look in his eyes. I step forward menacingly.

"You better back the f**k up, b***h. I wasn't about to hit you earlier, but you're pushing it."

A frenzied laugh bubbles up from my throat.

"I knew twelve different ways of taking down someone your size by the age of sixteen, bucko. You picked the wrong lady to mess with this morning."

Realization hit. His smug grin reappears.

"Whatever, faggot. I have s**t to deal with," he says, spinning around to go back in through the door he entered just moments ago.

I was almost shaking with anger. I wanted to knock him down from his high horse so badly, but I kept my cool. I have no intentions of going back to jail again any time soon, and this f*****g worm wasn't worth it. He just smells like the type of rich kid who would cry out "assault" if anyone ever hit him hard enough.

The moment his naked back disappears through the door, my moral conflict reappears. Do I skip class and try to find her? The way things are looking, that girl is obviously in danger, and it seems as though danger wants to track her down and do God-knows-what. Before I can talk myself out of it. I whip out my phone and fire off an e-mail to my shop instructor apologizing for the late message and informing him I'd be missing class today. I'm so ahead of every other student that I know I won't be missing much. In less than five minutes, I'm out of the parking garage and driving down the main stretch, scanning every vehicle on the road for the light blue Toyota RAV-4 and the beautiful girl inside of it.