Chapter 8

Maybe I'm just overreacting.

Maybe it's just a stranger minding his own business.

I turned around, and the first thing I noticed was a really shiny pen knife in the hand of a filthy-looking man.

He was completely clothed in all black tattered clothes, making sure no skin was showing except his face; his hair was long and black with very few white strands.

Slowly he walked closer, and slowly I retreated my steps until I was up against the wall.

"Tu parles français?" He asked, meaning, "Do you speak French?"

"Oui," I replied, trying to hide my fear. My mom made my sisters and me take French classes one summer, and I'm glad I did.

"Now, pretty girl, I don't mean to harm you." "I'd let you go if you're good and do exactly as I say," he said again in French in the most creepy way possible.

I simply nodded.

"Good, give me all the money you have." He smiled, revealing an uneven set of brown teeth.

"I don't have any money..." I'm not from here; I'm a foreign student; I'm here for... I begged.