You knew it was a bad idea, walking home from Doc’s at this time of night. Maybe, just maybe, you should’ve listened to what Mama said about walking through the West Side at night.

The regret of not listening to her only emerged as a group of guys, boys who couldn’t be older than eighteen, somehow materialized from an alleyway.

“Real pretty one, ain’t she?” One of them crooned.

Another laughed. “I know. Makes me wonder why she’s here of all places. And at night, no less.”

You’d faced forward, ignoring their remarks.

“Don’cha hear us, sweetheart? You know it’s rude to ignore people when they’re talkin’ to you.”

It didn’t help that they were walking alongside you, still making comments.

“Hey, pretty girl, answer us, yeah?” A taller one stopped in front of you, shoving you roughly. Knocked off-balance, you’d fallen, only to realize you were now surrounded. And when all hope was gone, a new voice rang out:

“Hey! Lay off the girl, will ya? That’s no way to treat a lady, y’know.”

Looking up, you got to see your apparent savior: a tall, lanky-yet-lean guy of maybe seventeen or eighteen. He had a nice face, you supposed. He held out a hand, offering to help you up.

“I apologize on behalf of all these idiots,” He glared at his supposed friends, tone acrid. He looked back down at you, gaze and voice immediately softening. “Hey, you alright, girly-girl?”