Nights of New York- Prologue

Beyond the skyscrapers and buildings and the time-consuming traffic, the dark alleys of New York are less feared. A brief walk pass the back alleys of flats and townhouses, one could hear the scampering of rodents and the lighting of cigarettes. In these alleys gather a group of criminals, often charged for rape, murder, and theft. 

These criminals lack interest in men, but their attention to young females are triggered easily. Albeit the beauty of most women are not naturally possessed, these men care nothing for that. They seek the pleasure they fantasize, the dream of intercourse they so sexually desire. 

A fortnight ago, Leila walked home alone. Her sleek long hair swished back and forth with every clunk of her heels against the stone pavement. Posture on point, she wore a collared shirt with a matching pencil skirt, and a Prada in her grasp; the common look of a businesswoman. Her dark skin glowed under the lamp posts along the sidewalk, the only black present in the street.

“Damn it,” she muttered under her breath, the disappointment clearly shown in her eyes. The sign that indicated a path blockage stood a few feet ahead of her. She understood that she would have to take the back route to her flat: the route she dreaded the most.

One last sigh, Leila turned her back to the sign and recollected her steps. Taking a left turn from the last junction, she found herself amidst the darkness that enveloped the alley.

It was no mistake that it was the back alley of her flat. The run-down walls of the two buildings sprayed with graffiti, the peeling of paint of overflowing dumpsters, and the jittering of air-conditioners could only express the backdrop of a horror movie.

Leila took slow, steady steps forward, eyeing the stairway that led to her door on the second floor. She progressed cautiously, alert to the sounds of squeaking rats and hissing cats. She was already nearing the dead end of the alley, the stairs only a few feet away from her…

“Look what we’ve got,” a male voiced out from a dark corner of the alley, followed by a snicker from another.

Her back to the first flight of steps, she glanced around. The dim lamp post allowing the least of her peripheral vision seemed to put her in the most vulnerable position.

“W-what do you want?” She winced as she gripped the iron handrail, the rust biting into her flesh. The loudness of her voice died down in the last few words, her fear understandable by all.

A group of men emerged from their shadows, all advancing towards her. She was cornered, a useless bitch who feared to even run.

“You fucking know what we want, you little pussy,” the one on the left said and sneered.

At that point, Leila could see their faces clearly. She was surrounded by all five of them, and there was no way of escaping. There were three whites and two blacks, all with a strong build. They each wore tank tops and beanies, a cigarette between their fingers.

“Wut’s yer name?” the one with the gold tooth asked and spat on the ground next to her.

“Y’ know blacks are f’cking hard to find these days, ‘specially in York,” the white on her left.

“I hear they’re the best when it comes to pleasing us, f’cking white chicks got nothing on ‘em,”

“C’mon wut’s yer fucking name?!” Gold Tooth.

“V-vienna,” she answered.

A smirk came from her right. “This bitch’s a f’cking liar. She ain’t blinking her goddamn eyes.”

“What’s yer fucking name?!” Gold Tooth grabbed her by the collar.

“Woah, woah, slow down bastard, don’t hurt mah prize.” The man from the corner earlier.

“It’s Vienna.” Faint but firm.

The men exchanged glances.

“So, Vienna, innit?” the black sounded.

Without given time to answer, her vision blurred as a hand covered her mouth from behind and the last thing she felt was a firm grasp on her breast.