NovelEnglish
The shop’s proprietor was in the midst of a battle against flies. Estelle replenished her bag with bread and energy
bars, topping off her supplies with a bottle of soda.
As she browsed the aisles, a group of men approached a table where a solo young lady sat. They encircled her,
their words a jumble of another language and gibberish.
“Hi, beautygirl.”
“Hey there, where you off to?”
“Looking for a place to stay?”
“Can I love you?”
Their eyes were fixed on the girl, their sneers dripping with malice. Startled, the girl stood up, clutching her purse,
and hurried toward the exit.
The men were quick to follow, once again enclosing her, escalating from catcalls to unwanted touches.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtWaving her purse frantically, the girl shouted,
“I don’t know you, back off.”
“My boyfriend will be here any minute.”
“I’m going to call the cops.”
During the scuffle, one of the men groped her, eliciting a piercing scream as she shoved through them and bolted
outside.
They chased her like cats with a mouse, their menacing laughter sending shivers down her spine.
Desperate, she ran toward a parked Rolls-Royce Cullinan, pounding on the windows, “Help me, please. Somebody,
please help.”
Inside the car, a man lay reclined, legs propped on the steering wheel, sunglasses masking his eyes. Awakened by
the rapping on the glass, he opened his striking brown eyes only to regard the panicked girl with indifference.
Realizing she wouldn’t find her savior in the man with the car, the girl dashed back toward the store, seeking refuge
with the indifferent store owner. Such incidents were all too common in a place like Citadel, and the owner had no
interest in getting involved. He scoffed at the girl’s naivety for wandering into such a place alone.
The taunting men closed in on her, their hands reaching for her face, chest, and arms.
“Don’t touch me.”
“Please, let me go.”
“I’ll give you all my money, just let me go.”
In a panic, the girl grabbed a leftover food tray from a table and smashed it into one of their faces, food and sauce
splattering. The man wiped his face clean, revealing a sinister scowl before slapping the girl hard and dragging her
toward the back alley.
The others laughed as they tugged at her clothes.
The girl struggled fiercely, but a punch to her face soon silenced her efforts.
Estelle, stepping out with her soda in hand, witnessed the scene. She paused, took a swig of her drink, and followed
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏmthem with determination.
The man in the car watched Estelle’s retreating figure, his brown eyes narrowing with intrigue. She looked cool
enough, with her jacket, jeans, combat boots, and baseball cap shading half of her face with oversized sunglasses.
Yet, clearly, she was another foolhardy soul.
A sardonic smile curled his lips.
Behind the restrooms, with the girl pinned against a wall, Estelle approached the thug in a green baseball jersey.
“Hi.” she greeted him.
As he turned, Estelle’s soda bottle shattered over his head, the sound of glass breaking loud in the silence.
“Ah.” he groaned, clutching his head.
Estelle wasted no time, stuffing the jagged rim of the bottle into his mouth and kicking him away. A well-aimed
punch to the next man’s face left him unconscious with a broken cheekbone.
Five minutes later, Estelle addressed the stunned girl, “Get dressed.”
The girl’s eyes were wide with shock, tears streaming down her face. Her voice trembled with gratitude, “Thank
you so much.”
Estelle nodded slightly and walked away, leaving the girl to collect herself in the aftermath.
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