Rhoda pulled away, hearing a soft knocking at the door. Rushing forward, Rhoda pulled the door open and found Cindy leaning against the molding, the sound of a vehicle squealing down the street.
'Cindy!'
Her daughter was in torn clothing, her cheeks streaked with dirt, tears.
'They… they raped… raped me… they…' she stammered, stumbling into her mother's arms.
'Oh my God, God, get out of here!' Rhoda screamed at Brad.
'I'll call tomorrow,' he muttered, brushing past the two sobbing women.
'Inside, inside,' Rhoda whispered, pushing the door shut and locking it. She pulled her half hysterical daughter into the living room and sat on the sofa.
'Oh, Mother, they did… awful things to me, they…'
'Shhh, hush, that's all right. You can talk later. Now you're safe at home, safe…'
Her mother's words were comforting, after having endured the sarcasm and insults from those three sadists.
'Oh, Cindy, don't worry, no man's going to hurt you, to touch you again.'
Cindy sighed, clinging to her mother.
'The police?' Cindy asked, turning her reddened eyes up.
'Yes, of course,' Rhoda said, getting up and starting for the phone. She stopped, her hand on the receiver. Her lips were curling up just for an instant. She caught herself and became serious again. No, she doubted Brad would be calling tonight.
Too bad, Rhoda thought as she picked up the receiver and dialed the police.
