“Please,” a girl’s voice. Young. Desperate. “Please let me go. I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”
A slap. Loud enough to hear clearly. The girl cried out.
I zipped up. Washed my hands slowly. Thinking. The bathroom had one exit. Right past me. They’d have to walk by.
My phone was in my vest. I could call 911. But what would I say? And how long would it take? These men would be gone in five minutes. The girl with them.
The door opened.
Three men walked out first. Mid-thirties to forties. Jeans. Baseball caps. Could’ve been anyone. Behind them, a teenage girl. Thin. Dirty clothes. Bruised face. Her hands were zip-tied in front of her.Continue reading…
