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A New York feminist sees a moment through another girl's eyes.

I'm surprised it doesn't sting. I didn't take care of that when I saw that you had a high fever," he said as he ran his fingers on the scar.

Her dizziness lifted. She was supposed to thank him? Did she owe him her life? For she could have been raped and killed up on that pavement. But it was his gang that provoked it. He was surely their leader. Why did he let it happen in the first place? Why didn't he stop them then?

He was still studying her for any warning signs, or so she thought, or so he thought until he had once again the same warning line sounding over and over in his head. How the hell am I gonna get out of this?

12pm, Wednesday

He got up.

He was the first to break that line that they both felt was developing between them.

"I'm gonna make some phone calls outside. Don't stand up on your own while I'm out. Rest as much as you can," he ordered in a flat voice.

He went out with a quick pace.

She looked around, sipping her coffee while it was still hot.

The place must have been a part of an old factory with its concrete floors and walls. It didn't have a proper door, only a garage door, rusted and heavy. It had hanging bulbs, a leather couch and his bed. A couple of chairs were scattered around and a large door that led to the bathroom. This was the only room separated from the rest of the open space.

She suddenly felt tired and set her coffee mug on the floor. She was asleep in less than a minute.

He felt relieved when he saw her sleeping again. Those were the directions. Sleep and rest for the first hours.

He felt her forehead and her scar. It was healing by the hour. Good.

7:12pm Wednesday

She woke up. Dizziness was there, but didn't seem impossible like before.

"What time is it?" she asked in a faint voice.

"Hey, you are OK? It's a quarter past seven in the evening. You're doing well."

"So, can I leave?"

He took a moment before he would reply. He looked into her eyes. The dilation had gone. They were just kind of melancholic.

"You are expected somewhere? You don't have anything, not even clothes to walk out soon. Plus I have to take measures so you won't talk about this to anyone."

She felt stupid. Of course, it wouldn't be easy. He's a gang leader for Christ shake!

"My bag?"

"Was taken."

What? She had all her money in there from her work, all her clothes.

"I'm lost without it! All my belongings were in there..."

He paused for a moment.

"I'll get you some clothes. And stuff... And a bag. I'll be back. Don't get up on your own, stay there. Drink more water. I guess tomorrow morning you can leave..."

"OK."

When he returned, he found her sitting on the floor, away from the bed.

"God, Eva, I told you to stay down..."

He stood her up.

"I wanted to take a bath and I felt good but suddenly everything was turning around..."

He hugged her loosely, to help her regain her steadiness. She didn't.

"Come, I'll get you to the shower."

All of a sudden, she started crying.

"Do you know what the worst part is?" she said between her tears.

"What is it, baby?" he startled himself for what he thought actually came out as words, as a whisper.

"I know something is inside my head, something that causes me pain and I can't remember anything. Did something happen the night, you know, they attacked me?" she asked desperately.

"I know you had some nightmares. But you should let your mind decide when you'll recover that information. You need to rest now."

He caressed her hair the whole time she cried. Hell, he would find out what that nightmare was.

"What's your full name Eva?"

"Eva Aitken."

"How old are you Eva?"

"19."

"Good, good. You're not underage."

She looks at him puzzled.

"What is your name?"

"Not important. Focus on you now."

"What is your name?" she asks more quietly.

"Stephen."

"How old are you Stephen?"

"25."

He was trained and chosen just for this reason, that he could easily not form close relationships.

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