Civilian Hero
Once, a lady ran up to me at a notoriously bad corner in town. I thought I knew her because she ran right up to me and hugged me. However, as soon as she let go, she started babbling incoherently, and I realized that she was one of the many mentally ill people living in the area. A few minutes later, she did the same thing to a 50ish-year-old guy. I got a bad feeling, so I kept an eye on them.
He got very creepy with her, pushed her against a bus stop, and stated, “You’re coming home with me tonight.” She was half in tears, mumbling, and shaking her head violently, clearly not interested in going anywhere with him. Even though I knew it wasn’t a safe choice for me, I felt compelled to do something. I started yelling at him. He yelled back, then grabbed her by the wrist and started pulling her towards the alley.
I was terrified, in tears, and very angry. She screamed and I pulled the whiskey bottle out of my bag, yelled at him—and got hit in the face. I hit him back with the bottle. The girl ran away and I hit the man with the bottle again and he fell to the ground. I ran away crying then puked. That is the only time I’ve ever been in a fight, and I’ve become a bit afraid of myself because of it.