The clearing was just ahead. I crept closer, and bent low when I got to the tree line. Peeking around an old oak trunk, I surveyed the scene. She was ...tanding in the middle of a small circular meadow, with the sunlight falling all around her. It was so bright, my eyes seemed to deceive me, and I thought of moving back a little into the woods. But I was drawn to that voice, I almost couldn’t resist leaning closer. But I didn’t want her to see me, she might have stopped, or even run away. And I. ‘Da fuck you doin’ down here, cracka, gon’ mess wit me? Gon’ fuckin mess-!’ He charged at the young man, grabbing two fistfulls of his shirt, driving him backward. The young man dug in, struggling, straining, fighting. He took a swing at the rapist’s head, missed, got swung around, slammed into a wall. He felt the wood of his beloved guitar shatter, heard the strings pop. His breath caught in his chest. A punch to the stomach, a fist across the face, he dropped, hearing the wooden shrapnel. More

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