the wall I was leaning against. My heart kicked into a sprint, and I rushed toward the fire door. I had barely made it three steps before four men moved out of the darkness. My throat tightened in panic, my lungs ceasing to breathe. Hand shaking, I dived for the door handle, but just as I did, the men rushed at me.
My scream was lost to the blockage in my throat, and I was slammed against the wall, a hand slicing across my face. I tried to think, tried to formulate a plan to get away from these men, but my brain wouldn’t work. My cheek throbbed and my head ached and I couldn’t form any coherent thoughts.
Anxiety welled inside of me like quicksand, swallowing me whole, dousing me in pure terror. You always heard of people being attacked, always assumed that if it was you it ever happened to, you could get away. You would fight, resist and be able to escape. But I was paralysed by fear—muscles locked and eyes wide as I tasted blood in my mouth, my vision blurring as I tried to focus on my attackers.
My ears rang like St Paul’s Cathedral’s bells, deafening me, closing down my senses. I tried to gasp for breath, for a way to calm my racing heart. But dizziness consumed me. I blinked, managing to focus enough to see a tall man move before me and wrap his hand around my throat. He had acne scars on his face and a deep red scar through his left black eyebrow. Finding a morsel of fight within me, I silently cried out and pushed at his chest.
But he stood stoic. Unmoving. Then he used his grip on my neck to slam me back against the wall. White-hot pain sliced through my shoulders. Then I froze entirely, pushing through the panic and mental fog to realise his free hand was lifting up the hem of my dress.
I acted on instinct, panic stepping aside to allow determination through. “Stop!” I slammed my hands harder against his chest. A granite boulder disguised as a fist rammed into my stomach, knocking the wind from me. I gasped for breath, legs buckling, just as another man lifted my head by my hair to keep me upright.
No, no. no … please … !
I tried to scream aloud at the fiery pain ripping through my scalp, but a hand smothered my mouth before any noise could escape my lips. I thrashed as I bit down on the fingers, but it was no use. Nothing was working—I couldn’t fight them off. I couldn’t fight them off!
Think, think, think!
But I couldn’t. Everything was happening too fast. They were too strong, too many of them. I was turned and rammed against the wall. A man moved behind me, pushing my dress up to my waist. Even through my thick head-fog, I heard the telltale sound of a zip being pulled down.
My turbulent panic and hopeless flailing grew to a sudden stop. Like all the oxygen within me had been sucked into a vacuum, rendering me still. Time slowed to half speed, the air around me grew stagnant and heavy, and the looming presence of the man behind me pressed down on me like a quilt of smothering darkness.
My pulse thundered in my ears like a drum-heavy soundtrack ominously counting down to his assault. I managed to move my head a fraction, the rough brick of the wall scraping against my cheek. That was all it took to rip through my paralysis. The clay of the brick gouged into my cheek, jerking my body and mind into motion.
I bit down harder on the hand over my mouth, sinking my teeth into flesh as hard as I could. “You fucking bitch!” the man behind me snarled, yanking his hand away. I took advantage of the moment and stole a much-needed long breath, sucking in the humid, salty Spanish air.
I needed to keep breathing. I just needed to keep breathing. I needed to keep moving, to keep slipping from their grips.
“Stop!” I uselessly begged, trying to kick out my legs, my arms, anything to get them off me. “I said STOP!” I threw back my head, managing to butt the nose of the man behind me. The crunch of broken bone ricocheted off the walls of the alley.
“Fucking spoilt Harlow cunt!” a voice hissed, and two hands wrapped around my throat from behind, cutting off my breath again. His hold was harder this time.