Blood Games

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

A year and two weeks after graduation from Belmore University, on the fifth night after their arrival in New York City, they stepped out of the Dunsinane Theater on Bleecker Street after a performance of Mother Courage.

Vivian led them to the left.

‘Are you sure we shouldn’t be going the other way?’ Cora asked. ‘This doesn’t seem right.’

‘It’s not,’ Finley said. ‘It’s left.’

‘I don’t want to get lost again,’ Helen said. ‘My feet won’t take it.’

‘The subway entrance is just a couple of blocks from here.’

‘I sure hope so.’

It seemed to Abilene that Helen had spent most of the week complaining about her feet. With good reason, she supposed. Vivian had taken them everywhere.

They’d roamed Macy’s, Saks, Bloomingdale’s, F.A.O. Schwartz, and countless other stores. They’d gone to the Trump Tower and the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

They’d explored Grand Central Station, astonished by the underground world of shops and tunnels that seemed to go on forever, but appalled by the squalor, unnerved by the filthy beggars who seemed to lurk everywhere, and finally so overwhelmed by the smell of the place that they had rushed for fresh air.

They’d explored Central Park.

They’d taken the NBC tour at Rockefeller Plaza and later gone to the top of the Empire State Building.

They’d spent a day at Coney Island, not only trying out some of the rides but hiking far along the beach and spending a long time on a pier where they were fascinated by the assortment of people fishing, throwing out crab traps baited with Kentucky Colonel, cooking meat on grills they’d apparently brought from home, and hawking their barbecued specialities along with such things as ice cream, sodas, beer, hard liquor (in tiny ‘airline’ bottles kept out of sight under a table) and firecrackers.

Except for subway rides to such distant places as Coney Island, the Battery and Greenwich Village, they’d walked everywhere they went. Throughout, Finley carried her video camera (at least during daylight hours), Vivian and Cora seemed tireless and Helen complained about her sore feet and Abilene didn’t complain but sat down every chance she got.

Nightfall had provided some relief, but not much.

They often hiked around the Times Square area for blocks in search of a ‘neat place to eat’ before deciding on Nathan’s or Sbarro or a Mama Leone’s or Houlihans.

Then they’d be off, on foot, for the theater district. The plays had been great; you could sit down for a couple of hours.

Then they’d be up again. And wandering 42nd Street to look again at the gawdy display windows and street artists and musicians and break-dancers and tourists and beggars and cripples and cops on horseback and guys peddling wristwatches.

At last, they would head back for the Hilton, stopping along the way at a small grocery market to pick up sodas, beer and snacks. Finally, they would arrive at their suite, get out of their shoes, get into their nightclothes, and gather in one or the other of the connecting rooms to sit around and drink and eat and chat and moan and laugh for a while before calling it a night.

Today had been the worst, Abilene thought as she walked with the others along MacDougal Street.

After sleeping in late, they’d taken a subway to the Battery, gone over to the Statue of Liberty and stood in line for two hours before entering the statue. Abilene supposed that the climb to the top was the most tiring — and scary — part of their Big Apple adventure. After making their way up flight after flight of ‘normal’ stairs, they’d come to a circular staircase so steep and narrow that she had almost chickened out. Though Helen had muttered, ‘Oh my God,’ at the base of the twisting iron stairs, she’d gone ahead and started up, Abilene behind her. The singlefile line moved slowly upward. There were long pauses. The air was hot and stuffy. Abilene felt as if she were suffocating. She gasped for breath and blinked sweat from her eyes and wished she could turn back. There was no way to turn back. What happens to people who pass out trying this? she wondered. Is there a rescue team, or what?

The iron railings, because of their steep angle, were so low at her sides that it seemed quite possible to tumble over one. Again and again, she imagined herself going dizzy, rolling over the left-hand rail, and plummeting straight down the center opening.

If Helen can make it, I can, she kept telling herself. And at last she followed Helen into the crown. It had no openings. It had no fresh air. It was even hotter, stuffier than the stairway. All she wanted was out. Nudged on by those behind her, she filed past the tiny windows. Glanced through glass so dirty or scratched that it made a foggy blur of the harbor and the New York skyline. Kept on moving and started downward.

The very best thing about the Statue of Liberty, she found, was escaping from it.

While they rested in the park, Abilene had looked into Finley’s camera and said, ‘Now I know all about those “tired, huddled masses yearning to breathe free.” They’re the poor slobs climbing to the top.’

After the ferry ride back to the Battery, Vivian had suggested they walk over to the World Trade Center. ‘It’s only a few blocks from here.’

‘Kiss my sweaty butt,’ Helen had told her.

‘Thank you,’ Abilene had said.

Skipping the World Trade Center, they’d taken the subway back into mid-town, gotten off at the wrong stop, and hiked for an hour before reaching the Hilton.

A brief rest, a change of clothes, and they’d soon been off again. This time, to Greenwich Village for dinner and the Brecht play.

They’d gotten off the subway at the Houston Street station.

Then they’d gone exploring, wandering up and down narrow streets, going into clothes stores and bookshops, walking past sidewalk cafes, scanning menus in restaurant windows. Somehow, they’d found themselves across the street from a park. After checking her guidebook, Vivian had identified it as Washington Square.

Joining a crowd at one end of the park, they’d spent a while watching a young man juggle machetes while riding a unicycle.

Then they’d gone back to the maze of streets where they’d seen so many restaurants. Some of the eating places looked too crowded, others too formal, none just right. So they’d kept on walking, discovering streets they’d missed before, always on the lookout for a ‘neat place’ to have dinner.

Helen was the one who found it.

‘My God!’ she’d gasped. ‘We’ve gotta eat here! We’ve gotta!’

It was an Italian restaurant called ‘Grandpa’s.’ In the window near its entrance was taped a newspaper clipping: an article about the restaurant with a photograph of its owner.

Its owner was Al Lewis, ‘Grandpa Munster’ from the old TV show.

So in they’d gone, and Al Lewis had greeted them at the door. He wasn’t in costume. He wore trousers, a plaid shirt and a ball cap instead of his Munster outfit. But Helen had seemed no less excited about meeting him. She’d blushed and searched her purse for paper and shyly asked for his autograph.

All through dinner, she’d stared at him.

On their way out, Vivian stopped and asked him directions to the Dunsinane theater. While he’d explained how to get there, Helen had watched him in awestruck silence.

‘That was so great,’ she’d said when they were outside.

‘The high point of the trip, huh?’

‘Pretty near.’

‘Better than the Statue of Liberty?’

She’d rolled her eyes upward and groaned.

Mother Courage, with actors wandering into the audience and shouting in people’s faces, had seemed nearly as unnerving to Abilene as the winding staircase in the Statue. She was glad when it ended.

‘So where is the subway station?’ Helen asked.

Finley grinned back at her. ‘It must’ve moved.’

‘It’s gotta be around here someplace.’ Vivian stopped at a corner, glanced at the street sign, and raised her guidebook close to her face.

Abilene looked up at the sign and found herself grinning. ‘Hey, it’s Mulberry Street. And to think that I saw it.’

‘I don’t see it,’ Vivian murmured.

‘What?’ Cora asked.

‘Mulberry Street.’

‘And to think that I saw it,’ Abilene repeated.

‘What are you talking about, Hickok?’

‘Mulberry Street. Dr Seuss.’

‘Give us a break.’

‘I can’t find it on the map,’ Vivian said.

‘It’s gotta be on the map,’ Abilene told her. ‘It’s famous.’

‘You try and find it.’

Vivian handed the guide book to Abilene. In the center of one page was a small map of Greenwich Village. She squinted at it under the streetlight. ‘Well, there’s MacDougal.’

‘But we’re on Mulberry. Where the hell is Mulberry Street?’ She kept looking at the map. Streets went every which way, going off at odd angles, ending, resuming elsewhere. She found no Mulberry Street. Finally, she shook her head. ‘I sure don’t see it.’

‘Look for Broome,’ Cora suggested. ‘We’re at Broome and Mulberry.’

She studied the map, searching for Broome. ‘It’s not here either.’

‘Oh man,’ Helen moaned.

Vivian grimaced. ‘I think we might’ve gotten off the map.’

‘Then where the hell are we?’ Abilene flipped the page over and found a small map of the East Village. ‘Could we be in the East Village?’ she asked.

‘You got me.’

‘Jesus,’ Helen said.

‘These street names don’t look very familiar,’ she said, and a drop of water hit the page. She lifted her face and a cool drop splashed her forehead. ‘I hate to mention it, folks. I think it’s starting to rain.’

‘I was hoping that was just a little bird shitting on my head,’ Finley said.

‘Just some drizzle,’ Cora said. ‘It won’t kill us. Let’s keep walking. We’re bound to come to a main road before long. If we can’t find a subway station, we’ll get a taxi.’

Abilene handed the guidebook back to Vivian. ‘So which should we take?’ she asked. ‘Mulberry or Broome?’

‘Either way, we’re lost,’ Helen said.

‘Mulberry hasn’t gotten us anywhere,’ Cora said. ‘Let’s try Broome.’

As they crossed the road, the raindrops began to fall more rapidly. By the time they reached the other side, the drizzle had turned into a shower.

Walking backward at the head of the group, Finley stretched out her arms and said, ‘Could be worse.’

‘Yeah?’ Abilene asked. ‘We’re lost and it’s pouring.’

‘And my feet are killing me,’ Helen said.

‘At least we haven’t been mugged.’

‘The night’s still young,’ Abilene told her.

Finley laughed and whirled around.

‘Where are all those damn taxis when you need them?’ Cora said.

A few cars were passing on the street, headlights glaring on the slick pavement, tires swishing. There didn’t seem to be a cab among them. Nor were there any shops or restaurants in sight where they might take shelter and ask directions — or phone for a cab. There were only apartment buildings with dark entry-ways.

‘I don’t like this,’ Helen said.

‘Where is everyone?’ Abilene said.

‘Staying out of the rain,’ Finley called back.

‘We’re bound to find a taxi sooner or later,’ Vivian said. ‘Or a subway station.’

As they walked past a recessed entryway, a derelict wrapped in a blanket raised his head and yelled, ‘Hey!’ Abilene’s stomach lurched. She hurried past him and looked back. He was out of sight.

‘Wanta ask him for directions?’ Finley asked.

Cora elbowed her and she laughed.

‘This is getting a little too hairy for me,’ Abilene said.

‘Just consider it an adventure. That’s what we’re here for, right? Adventure! ’

‘Getting lost wasn’t what I had in mind,’ Vivian said.

‘Hell, it’s our last night in the Big Apple. At least it’ll be a memorable one.’

‘If we live through it,’ Helen said.

‘At least you can die happy,’ Finley told her. ‘You met Grandpa Munster.’

‘Uh-oh,’ Vivian said. ‘Here comes someone.’

Walking up the sidewalk toward them was a slim man dressed in jeans. His shirt was off. He walked briskly, swinging his shirt beside him.

At least he’s not staggering, Abilene thought.

‘Everyone just stay calm,’ Cora advised. ‘If he tries anything, I’ll handle it.’

As he neared them, he slowed his pace. He was a young man, rather handsome. ‘Are you ladies all right?’ he asked.

‘We’re not sure where we are,’ Vivian told him.

Nodding and frowning, he stopped in front of her. His long hair was pulled back in a pony tail. His wet torso gleamed in the streetlight, and Abilene could see raindrops splashing off his shoulders. ‘I wondered about that,’ he said. ‘If you knew where you were, you wouldn’t be here. This isn’t the best of neighborhoods, you know. You’re heading straight into the Bowery.’

‘Oh dandy,’ Finley said.

‘We’re trying to get back to our hotel,’ Vivian explained. ‘Where are you staying?’

‘The Hilton.’

‘You aren’t going to get there this way.’

‘We’ve been looking for a subway station.’

‘You won’t find one around here. I guess the best bet’d be Canal and Broadway.’

‘Where the hell is that?’ Cora asked.

‘Not far, but… maybe I’d better take you, make sure you get there in one piece.’

‘That bad?’ Cora asked.

‘I get scared and I live here. And I’m not a pretty young woman.’

‘We don’t want to take you out of your way,’ Vivian told him. ‘That’s okay. I was just on my way home anyway. My con-science’d bother me if I let you go on by yourselves.’

‘It’s mighty nice of you,’ Vivian said.

I hope that’s what it is, Abilene thought. No telling what he might really be up to.

He’s probably just a decent guy who wants to help, she told herself.

But you never know. This is New York.

‘I’m Wayne, by the way.’ Cracking a smile, he added, ‘I’ll be your tour guide for this evening’s festivities.’

They introduced themselves, and he nodded a pleasant greeting to each of them.

‘First on the agenda, let’s get you turned around so you’re heading out of harm’s way.’ They parted to let him through, then accompanied him back up Broome Street.

Vivian and Cora walked at his sides, the others following close behind. His wet pony tail hung swaying at the nape of his neck. His jeans hugged his hips so low that the crevice of his buttocks showed and Abilene had doubts that he was wearing underpants.

Finley’s kind of guy, she thought.

‘How’d you manage to end up on the Lower East Side?’ he asked, looking over his shoulder. Probably so everyone could hear, but his question seemed directed at Helen.

‘We thought we were in Greenwich Village,’ she answered.

He smiled. ‘That might be where you started.’

‘Map-girl blew it,’ Finley told him.

‘I guess you’re tourists.’

Cora laughed.

‘Obviously,’ Vivian said.

‘Where you from?’

As they walked along, they told Wayne where they were currently living, how they’d gone to college together and come to New York City as an excuse for a get-together.

‘We’re planning to meet somewhere every year,’ Helen explained. ‘This year, it was Vivian’s turn to pick. She’s into acting, so obviously she chose New York. We’ve been to… what? Five shows? The others were, you know, downtown, but tonight we came out to the Village. It seems like all we’ve done is go to plays and walk.’

Abilene grinned at her. She’d rarely found Helen so talkative with a stranger.

‘Next year, it’ll be Cora’s turn to pick.’

‘You won’t be seeing us back here,’ Cora said. ‘That’s a guarantee.’

‘You don’t like New York?’ Wayne asked her.

‘It’s an armpit.’

‘Come on,’ Vivian protested. ‘It’s great!’

‘Great if you like traffic and crowds and honking horns and jackhammers, weirdos and winos everywhere.’

Mention of the wino made Abilene realize they’d already walked past the derelict who’d called out from the entry way their first time by. She hadn’t even noticed. It does help, she decided, having an escort. She found that she didn’t even mind the rain so much, now that Wayne was leading them back to civilization.

‘And have you ever tried to breathe the air in Grand Central Station? It smells like exhaust.’

‘At least,’ Finley added.

‘I think New York’s terrific,’ Helen said. ‘I’ve loved every minute.’

That’s a hoot, Abilene thought.

She must really like this guy.

While they descended the stairway to the subway station, Wayne put on his shirt. At long last, Abilene thought. Though she had appreciated being escorted back to civilization, and Wayne seemed like a nice enough fellow, she’d found it odd that he had kept his shirt off while walking along with the five of them. Particularly because of the way his jeans hung so low. Was he deliberately showing off his body to them?

As he slipped into his shirt, Finley leaned close to Abilene and whispered, ‘Aw, shucks.’

Helen, two stairs below them, looked back and gave Finley a chiding glance.

They gathered around Wayne at the bottom of the stairway. Vivian extended a hand to him and said, ‘Thanks so much. I don’t know what we would’ve done without you.’

Smiling, he squeezed her hand. ‘My pleasure. It’s not every night I get to help out damsels in distress. I think I’d better stick with you for a while, though. You get some pretty strange customers on the subway, especially at this hour.’

‘That’s very nice of you, but…’

‘We’ll be fine,’ Cora interrupted. By the look in her eyes, Abilene could see that she was suspicious of the offer. ‘But thanks so much for getting us here.’

‘I’ll stay with you. At least till we get to your stop. Just in case. I really don’t mind.’

‘It’s not necessary,’ Cora said.

‘It sounds like a good idea to me,’ Helen said. She looked at the others for support. ‘You know? You hear about stuff happening on the subways, and it’s after midnight, and… if Wayne thinks he should stay with us for a while, I’m all for it.’

‘I’m only concerned about your safety, ladies.’

‘But you’ve already done so much,’ Vivian protested. ‘We can’t ask you to ride all the way back with us.’

‘I insist. Really.’

‘Besides,’ Finley said, ‘it’ll give him a break from the rain. I sure wouldn’t want to rush right back out there.’

‘Oh, I like the rain. But I don’t like the idea of you girls riding alone at this time of night.’

‘Let us at least buy your tokens,’ Vivian said.

He laughed softly. ‘Fine. If you like.’

Vivian, keeper of the tokens, searched her purse for those she’d bought for the return trip. She passed them around. As Wayne followed her to the glass-enclosed booth, Cora shook her head.

‘I know,’ Abilene said.

‘What’s the problem?’ Helen asked. ‘He’s just being nice.’

‘Maybe too nice,’ Abilene said.

‘You worry too much, Hickok.’

She frowned at Finley. ‘We don’t know anything about this guy-’

‘He’s got a nice bod on him.’

‘We’d be lost in the Bowery if it weren’t for him,’ Helen pointed out.

‘Right,’ Cora muttered.

They followed Vivian and Wayne to the turnstiles, dropped their tokens into slots, and passed through.

On the station platform, Abilene decided that having Wayne along might not be such a bad idea after all. A wino wrapped in a filthy coat was curled up on a bench, apparently asleep, a couple of over-stuffed bags at his feet. He wore mismatched tennis shoes and no socks. Near the far end of the platform three black teenagers were whispering and casting glances in their direction. She wondered if they had screwdrivers with sharpened points. She wondered if Wayne had any kind of weapon. She wondered if she would be worrying about such things if the three young men had been white.

Soon, a train came roaring into the station. They boarded it. The wino stayed on his bench. The three black kids entered a different car.

Except for an old man reading a newspaper, their car was deserted.

Two stops later, the old man left. Nobody else entered. Finley, hanging onto an upright pole and smiling down at Wayne, said, ‘Sure are a lot of strange customers in here.’

‘Guess it’s our lucky night,’ he said.

Helen patted his thigh. ‘I’m glad you’re with us, anyway. I feel so much safer.’

For the rest of the ride, nobody else entered their car.

They stepped out at the Times Square station.

‘We know our way from here,’ Cora said as they gathered in the rain at the top of the stairs.

‘I’ve come this far,’ Wayne explained. ‘I might as well see you safely to the hotel.’

‘It’s only a few blocks. We’ll be fine.’

‘No, really. I don’t mind.’ He started off, Helen staying close to his side.

Christ! Abilene thought. Why won’t someone tell him to go home?

‘What the hell’s he up to?’ Cora muttered.

‘I don’t know,’ Abilene said. ‘But I don’t like it.’

‘He’s just being helpful,’ Vivian said.

‘You always were too trusting,’ Cora told her.

‘It looks like the guy’s adopting us,’ Finley said.

‘How are we gonna get rid of him?’ Abilene asked.

‘I’ll take care of it,’ Cora said.

Wayne opened the door for them, followed them into the lobby of the Hilton and walked with them to the elevator bank.

Elevator doors were open, cars waiting.

Nobody entered one.

‘Well,’ Vivian said, once again shaking Wayne’s hand. ‘Thanks so much.’

‘Glad to be of service.’

‘I don’t know what we would’ve done without you,’ Helen told him. She offered her hand. Wayne took it, squeezed it and let go.

Cora opened her purse. She took out her billfold, saying, ‘We’d like to give you a little something for all your trouble.’ She plucked out a ten-dollar bill.

Wayne held up both hands to ward it off. ‘No, please. I don’t want your money. Gosh. Put it away.’

Cora blushed. ‘Please. Take it. If nothing else, use it for a taxi home.’

‘The subway’s fine. ’ He patted a pocket of his jeans. ‘Already got my token.’

Cora put the money away. ‘Okay, if you’re sure. Anyway, thanks so much.’

‘Yeah, you were a lifesaver,’ Finley said.

‘Thank you very much,’ Abilene added, realizing she had misjudged him. ‘You really helped us out.’

‘You’re all very welcome. Now, I guess I’d better…’ He started to turn away, then stopped and grimaced. ‘You don’t suppose I could… use your facilities before I start back?’

Uh-oh, Abilene thought.

‘I really hate to ask, but…

‘I’m sure there’s a john here in the lobby you could use,’ Cora said.

‘Yeah. Probably so. Okay, I’ll…’

‘For Godsake! ’ Helen blurted. Scowling at Cora, she grabbed Wayne’s arm and pulled him toward an elevator. ‘Of course you can use our john. Come on.’

‘I don’t want to impose.’

‘You’re not imposing.’ She pulled him into the elevator.

The others stepped aboard.

Helen jabbed a button for the twenty-fourth floor.

The doors slid silently shut and the elevator began to rise.

‘I really do appreciate this,’ Wayne said. He was leaning back against the rear wall.

Cora turned to face him. ‘I’m sorry, but you’ll have to use the toilet in the lobby.’

He frowned.

‘Cora!’

‘I mean it, Helen. Wayne’s been very nice to us and helpful and everything, but he’s not coming into our rooms. That’s final.’

‘It’s not fair! ’

‘I only want to use your toilet,’ Wayne said. ‘It’ll only take a minute, then I’ll be gone.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘We could at least vote on it,’ Helen said.

‘We aren’t taking any Goddamn vote,’ Abilene snapped, stepping close to Cora’s side. ‘We’ve gotta be sensible, and it’s stupid to let a stranger into our rooms.’ Looking Wayne in the eyes, she said in a softer tone, ‘I’m sorry.’

‘What do you think I’m going to do, attack you all or something?’

‘We just don’t want to take any chances,’ Vivian told him.

‘Sorry,’ Finley added.

As the elevator stopped, Wayne shook his head. ‘You gals are sure something.’

The doors rolled open. Cora glanced over her shoulder and punched the button for the lobby. ‘Just stay here. We don’t want any trouble.’

‘This is the thanks I get, huh?’

Cora, backing away, pressed her shoulder against the side of the doorway to keep the doors open. Abilene, Vivian and Finley stepped out. Helen stayed at the rear of the elevator. She folded her arms across her chest. She shook her head. ‘It isn’t right,’ she said.

‘Damn it, Helen.’

‘I’m not budging.’

‘Come on.’

Wayne turned his eyes to Helen. He slipped his arm across her shoulders, and she looked at him. ‘I’m afraid your friends aren’t going to give in on this. You’d better go with them, now. But thanks for trusting me.’ He squeezed her shoulder, then withdrew his arm.

Helen, nodding, walked toward the opening. ‘I think it stinks,’ she muttered. As she approached, Cora moved out of the way. The doors slowly began to roll shut. Helen stepped out of the elevator. She looked back at Wayne.

‘So long,’ he said.

And she leaped through the gap between the doors.

‘No! ’ Abilene gasped.

Cora rushed forward, but she wasn’t quick enough. ‘Shit!’

Abilene punched a finger against the call button. The plastic disk lit up, but the doors remained shut.

The lights above the elevator blinked from 23 to 22 to 21, marking the descent of Helen and Wayne. Below the twentieth floor, the elevator was an express to the lobby.

Abilene felt as if her stomach were dropping along with it.

‘What’re we gonna doT Vivian asked.

‘She’ll be all right,’ Finley said. From the look on her face, she didn’t believe it.

‘We should’ve let him use the john,’ Abilene muttered.

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Cora said. ‘If we’d let him into the rooms, there’s no telling what he might have done.’

‘Maybe we ought to go down to the lobby,’ Vivian suggested. As she spoke, an elevator arrived. Its doors opened for those who had called it to this floor.

They all glanced over at it.

‘We wouldn’t get there in time,’ Cora said, returning her gaze to the numbers above Helen’s elevator. ‘Whatever he’s doing to her, he’ll be finished by the time they reach the lobby.’

Abilene groaned.

‘She wouldn’t leave the hotel with him, would she?’ Vivian asked.

‘She’s not that stupid,’ Cora said.

Above the doors, the letter L lit up.

‘What if he forces her to go with him?’ Vivian asked.

‘No way,’ Cora said. ‘All she’d have to do is yell, security’d take care of him.’

‘I sure hope you’re right,’ Abilene said.

The L remained bright.

‘What the hell’s…?’

It went dark.

They waited. They didn’t talk.

Please, Abilene thought. Please, Helen’s gotta be on it. She’s gotta be all right. Please.

Finally, 20 blinked on and off, followed by 21, 22, 23. Then the 24 lit up.

The doors slid apart.

Helen, crouched in a corner, looked at them with tears in her eyes. Her face was red and wet. Her hands were clutching her upraised knees. The back of her skirt shrouded the floor, baring the undersides of her thick, pale thighs.

Cora blocked the doors open and the others rushed inside.

Though they asked if she was okay, asked what Wayne had done to her, Helen only shook her head and sobbed. They lifted her, and she staggered with them out of the elevator.

‘Let’s get her to the rooms,’ Cora said, leading the way. ‘I’ll call security.’

‘No,’ Helen gasped. ‘Don’t.’

‘Do you need a doctor?’ Abilene asked, hugging Helen against her side as they rushed her along.

‘No. No!’

‘Did he rape you?’ Finley asked.

‘Jesus, you people'.’

‘What the hell did he do to you?’ Cora demanded.

‘He… he kissed me,’ Helen choked out through her sobs. ‘He kissed me. He was so sweet and… and you were all so mean to him.’