I felt a shiver of fear as I looked from one slovenly youth to another, wondering what they had in mind for their entertainment. Brian stepped towards me, " so what's your name, bitch?" I didn't reply. The Price To Pay - Vol. 2.03 - Escape by Alys

I stood against the wall of the stone terraced house, at the end of the cul-de-sac, watching Brian, Frankie and their three other unsavoury friends walking towards me.

There was no way for me to run past them, the wall behind me was much to high to scale and there were no lights on in any of the houses in the street. Most of the houses looked like they were holiday homes and were empty. I was trapped and whatever the drunken slobs had in store for me there was no chance of avoiding it.

"You know one thing, Frankie," said Brian, as he stopped ten yards away from me.

"What's that, Brian, mate?" asked Frankie.

"Well, Frankie, if I was this little girlie here, I'd be a bit frightened," replied Brian, laughing, an ugly sound that jarred with the night sounds of the waves crashing on the beach in the distance and the breeze rustling the sails of the boats in the marina.

I felt a shiver of fear as I looked from one slovenly youth to another, wondering what they had in mind for their entertainment.

Brian stepped towards me, " so what's your name, bitch?"

I didn't reply.

"Cat got your tongue?" asked Frankie, aggressively, "come on you stupid cow, this can be as nasty as you like. If you don't want to get hurt too bad you'd better start being nice to us"

"Get stuffed!" I shouted," leave me alone!"

"Well, lads, what do you think about our little friend?" asked Brian, loudly, as he inched towards me," she's a bit rude don't you all think"

"Needs to be taught a few manners, I'd say, Brian," responded Frankie as he lunged forward, trying to grab my arm.

"Don't touch me!," I screamed as I slapped his hand away, unfortunately at the same time Brian jumped forward to grab me from behind. Before I could respond I was being held, tightly, in his big brawny arms, one around my waist, trapping my own arms, and the other on my mouth.

"Bit too slow, there, bitch," he growled in triumph, " now who wants to play with her first?"

I looked at the four other louts staring at me and to my surprise noticed one who looked a little uneasy.

"Come on Brian, she's only a kid, haven't you scared her enough," he asked, "let's go and get a few more beers"

"Don't be such a wanker, Johnnie" said Frankie, aggressively," no-one kicks sand in me face and gets away with it. I'll do her first, Bri"

"You're fucking mad, Frankie, she can't be more than thirteen," shouted Johnnie, " just leave her alone!"

Frankie turned and rushed up to Johnnie and pushed him hard, almost knocking him to the ground. Johnnie regained his balance and stepped back. Frankie marched up to him until his face was inches away from Johnnie's.

"No-one tells me what to fucking do!" yelled Frankie, " you got that bumboy?"

The two of them stood staring at each other for a few seconds, seemingly on the verge of a fight.

"Don't you call me bumboy, you prick," hissed Johnnie aggressively in response.

The attention of the rest of the gang was concentrated on the growing confrontation between Frankie and Johnnie. I decided that this was my only chance of escape.

"Ahhhh," screamed Brian, in pain as I bit hard on his hand over my mouth. He loosened the grip of his other arm as he instinctively held up his damaged hand. I pushed him away and started running as if my life depended on it, and it probably did.

"The bitch is getting away," shouted Brian, "stop her"

Frankie gave Johnnie one last push and started after me, Brian nursed his injury while the other three stood and watched the chase.

I knew I couldn't outrun Frankie, even though he was obviously a little intoxicated, he was four or five years older than me, at least six inches taller and quite a bit stronger. The advantage my lightness had given me earlier on in the day, when running bare foot on sand, was now negated by his physical maturity.

I had gained a lead of thirty yards, before he had begun running after me, but as I neared what I hoped was a bolt hole, he had cut that to less than twenty.

"Help, please, help, he's going to rape me!" I shouted as I neared the door, that I had spotted opening a few seconds before.

The door was pushed ajar.

"Quick, inside dear," spoke a female voice.

I needed no further invitation and threw myself through the door, past a small woman and into a gloomy passage. I heard the door shutting firmly behind me and then the sound of Frankie crashing into it.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, he'll not get through there, it's four inch solid oak, used to be part of the deck of my grandfather's fishing boat," reassured my rescuer.

There was a bang on the door as Frankie started trying to batter his way in. I shook with fright.

My elderly saviour picked up the intercom phone and spoke to my crazed assailant.

"Listen carefully, you cannot get in and even if you could you'd have to get past my shotgun. I have already called the police and they will be here in two minutes. So please stay longer and have a pleasant night in the cells," she bluffed.

"Granny, let me in, I just want a word with my girlfriend, it's just a misunderstanding," shouted Frankie.

The old lady, who I could make out was only wearing a dressing gown and nightie, looked at me quizzically.

I shook my head.

"He's lying, please don't let him in," I pleaded.

Frankie continued banging and although the door shook a little under his efforts it showed no sign of opening. In the meantime the sprightly householder did phone the police and was given assurances of help arriving rapidly.

I stood there still completely petrified, hoping that the door would be as strong as had been indicated. I heard the sound of an argument outside even while Frankie continued to try and smash through the door.

"Come on Frankie, let's go back to the pub," said Brian, " the others have gone already"

"Not letting the bitch escape," answered his psychotic friend.

Suddenly there was the sound of a police siren.

"Fuck, it's the scum, run!" shouted Brian.

There was a brief commotion outside as the two louts made their escape.

I stood shaking in relief.

"Come on dear, " said my protector, "come and sit down, I'll make us a cup of tea"

I followed her into the kitchen and a few minutes later was slowly sipping a reviving cup of sweet tea. She told me that her name was Angela, that she was retired from the civil service in London and had decided to return to the former family home of her grandparents in Dinbych-Y-Pysgod.

A few minutes later there was a knock on the door. Angela answered and returned with a young police officer and his female assistant. They explained that my attackers had managed to escape but they took a brief statement and suggested that I returned to the police station the following morning to look over some photographs of known trouble makers, even though they were most likely not local.

Half an hour later my parents' car pulled up outside, after Angela had phoned them and given them exact instructions how to find her house.

"Oh Celyn, are you alright," said my sister as she ran towards me and hugged me.

"Better now, thanks," I responded.

My father thanked Angela profusely and arranged to return the following day to take her out for lunch, with us, in the best local restaurant as a way of showing his gratitude for my safety.

We bade our farewells and I sat, exhausted, in the back of the car holding my sister's hand.

"I suppose we'll all have to go home tomorrow afternoon and I didn't even get chance to see Celyn wearing the other summer dresses I bought," said my Mother, grumpily, as we drove back to our caravan.