His Identity

Nancy

“So you want to report an attempted rape, ma’am?” the officer asked me. I was at the city police station, sitting in front of the police, with the man who helped me, sitting in the chair on my right side and my aggressor lying on my left side.

I nodded in response, being a little shy. “Yes, officer. I want to report an attempted rape,” I said.

I had hit that man until I lost strength in my arm, and the man had even passed out. Likewise, I had taken a deep breath and felt relieved, so I accepted a ride from the man who helped me, and he took me to the police station.

“Take this, to clean your hands,” he had said to me as he offered me a paper towel. There was blood on my hands, blood from my aggressor.

“Thank you." I thanked him, taking the paper towel and cleaning my hand. But I remained silent almost the entire time because I had a lot to take in, and I mentally thanked my helper for not interrupting my thoughts. He didn't judge me or make any comments about my aggressive b