45

The rapist comes up to me and is already swinging for a blow, as someone's arms are wrapped around his neck from behind. A short crunch of a breaking neck and that's it, it falls to the ground like a bag of potatoes, dropping an iron rod, which rolled back to the feet of the person who saved me.

- How are you girl? an excited voice rang out.

In front of me stood a short woman dressed in shabby clothes, not the first freshness: torn worn jeans, a darned checkered shirt with some spots and a couple of holes on the stomach, showing pale skin, a sweatshirt with a hood flaunted on top, which was thrown over an old American army jacket . These are usually worn by veterans of Vietnam and other wars who were not lucky enough to be on the street ...

Again, memory throws up details that were not in my head. At the same time, not wanting to return all knowledge completely.

The woman's face, hidden under the hood, was swarthy and grimy. White greasy short hair was knocked out from under the fabri
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