The Girl In Red

Rheya's POV

My nana always used to tell me, “The best things…the biggest blessings are the ones you never see coming,”. I call bullshit!

At least today her advice seems far from true.

The images of what I’ve seen are burnt into my mind, and I would give anything to unsee them. The images of a betrayal so deep and so well hidden that it almost feels like I’m dreaming or in some alternate reality because, quite literally-what the hell!

On a beautiful Friday afternoon like this, I would love nothing more than to be relaxed by the balcony in my little sundress, music in the background and a nice cold mimosa in hand, soaking in the sunlight with my best friend.

But today, I want to be anywhere but home. If anything, the regret I feel for signing a lease with her gnaws at me more each second. What a best friend I have!

The worst part is I should be adamant about being in the space that I pay for, yet today my rights don’t seem to matter; my feelings do. 

With each step I find myself closer and closer to my favourite cafe. Nothing beats the aroma of coffee brewed with their high-quality coffee beans. It’s right next to my favourite library. My hands reach for the door, but a scene a little far off catches my eye.

“Talk, you little thief!" a man shouts, attracting bystanders on the street. I notice a little girl with her hands stretched, waving them sideways as if to retort to what he is saying. Pick pockets are a major issue in this area. You have to be careful about being bumped into; the briefest encounter could mean stolen wallets and phones.

You have to grab the person as soon as they bump you. A proper shakedown and you can recover some lost items. Local criminals use kids to steal all the time, then give them a little cut.

This didn’t look like one of those incidents to me. The little girl from this distance didn’t seem like she needed to steal anything. She was too clean. The man was getting impatient, and the more silent she was, the more aggressively he shouted.

The little girl kept edging backwards. I walked towards the scene. Something tells me she needs some help. The man raised his hand to smack her, but my hand grabbed his just in time. Our eyes met; his were annoyed at my interruption, but I maintained eye contact. 

“Lady, don’t defend thieves, unless you say you’re an accomplice,” he scoffed.

Murmurs from the crowd grew louder as they agreed with the man. I glanced at the little girl; up close, she looked panicked, confused even. Her hair was a rich blonde colour, reaching her back, with a black bowtie at the front. Her shoes looked muddied from running. She wore a red button-up dress, white socks and a backpack. 

A simple outfit, but the material looked a little expensive; moreover, the Apple Watch on her hand was the latest kind. Something about her was different. Her eyes darted left and right so quickly. Her hands were shaking and her breathing was rapid and grew even more rapid as the crowd closed in on us.

Panic attack!

She crouched down on the ground and hugged her legs, rocking herself back and forth, her face buried in her knees. 

“Move back; she’s having a panic attack!” I screamed as I waved my hands frantically to the crowd.

I crouched down and tried speaking to her in a calm voice.

"Hi, honey. My name is Rheya. Are you okay?”

She didn’t respond but kept rocking herself. She must be really frightened.

“Are you like me? Sometimes crowded places make me really nervous,” I continued.

She remained silent but raised her head and nodded. Yes, finally, a response!

“I know a trick that helps; do you wanna try it with me?” She nodded tearfully. “Okay, breathe like me. Let’s take a deep breath. We did some breathing exercises together, and after a little while, her breathing was calm. Her eyes stayed fixated on me. 

"Okay, do you wanna tell me if you stole this man’s things?” I asked, trying to sound as gentle as possible. She shook her head aggressively. “Didn’t think so,” I said, smiling. I reached out my hand to her to help her up but she flinched. "Okay, sweetie, can you get up by yourself so we can talk to the man?”

She got up and we walked towards the man who seemed livid. “What did this little girl steal from you?” I asked confidently. 

“My wallet,” he answered quickly. I was too focused on the little girl before. I didn’t notice how rough this man looked. He had some rings on his fingers, a chunky chain on his neck and, on the left side of his face, there was a scar. It was healed, but I could tell he probably had to be stitched when he got it. But it was his eyes that got me unnerved; they looked sinister. My eyes trailed to his pocket. It was bulging with an outline that looked like a wallet.

This girl looks like she belongs to someone wealthy. If I don’t expose him, he’s walking away with her. I need to find a way to throw him off. Best bet is the wallet. If I can prove the little girl didn’t steal, then he will have no legitimate reason to grab her in public. 

The problem is he looks like the type of guy that has buried bodies before. He is also very muscular; if I make a break for it and he stops me before I grab the wallet, we will both look like two pickpockets, and then we’re both screwed. He could seriously hurt me. God help me, I hate my life right now, but I don’t wanna die!

I quickly reached into his pocket, grabbed his wallet and hurriedly leaped backwards. He launched at me, trying to grab it back, but I was too quick for him. “You mean this wallet?”, I asked defiantly. The crowd erupted in dismay. I opened the wallet and took out his ID. 

“It’s not even yours,” I said loudly for the crowd to hear. Just then a police car happened to be passing by and I flagged it down. The man looked terrified and was about to run away, but he was surrounded by the same crowd he had attracted.

Within a few minutes, I explained the situation to the police, and the man was handcuffed in the back of a police car. The crowd dispersed, and I was left alone with the little girl, who seemed to be calmer. Her hands were still shaking a little, and she looked at me with innocent and desperate eyes.

“Why don’t I take you home?” I suggested. 

She shook her head again and started scratching her hands frantically. "Okay, calm down. We don’t have to go right now,” I said, trying to comfort her. “How about a doughnut and some hot chocolate?" I continued, my hand reaching out to hers. Her hand slowly reached out to mine.

Something told me not to grab hers. Physical contact seemed to be sensitive for her. It’s best if she initiated it herself. She held my hand, and we walked into the cafe. I am in the cafe with a strange girl who seems to have run away from something.

The police car still hasn’t moved away. The criminal’s eyes bore into mine, telling a message; his stare was vengeful, and he raised his chained hands and traced his thumb against his throat with the most sinister smile. This was deeper than a pickpocket incident. 

Whatever it is, I am smack-dab in the middle of it, and this little girl needs to be home ASAP before someone else comes for her.

What the hell have I got myself into?