It was a stifling hot August night, the kind that makes all of New York feel like the insides of a wet teapot. The sun had long ago set but the humidity continued to linger, like a heavy blanket over the city. Angela sighed and wiped her hand across her sticky forehead.

"Spot?" she said quietly.

"Yeah?"

"Where are we going?"

"Manhattan lodgin' house." he said flatly. Angela nodded slowly. "I suppose you don't know what time it is, do you?" she ventured.

"Nope." Spot replied. Angela sighed resignedly. She didn't have anywhere to go so the Manhattan lodging house was a good a place as any.

Angela surveyed the deserted streets. She didn't even remotely recognize the area. It was beginning to bother her. She could tell by the run down buildings covered with broken and boarded up windows and filthy streets that they were walking through a seedy part of town.

"Spot," Angela said uneasily, "is this the only way to the lodging house?" Spot turned to face her. He could tell she was pretty scared. He sighed, regretting taking this route; even though it was the fastest way, it was also the most dangerous. He shook his head. "Dere's no turnin' back now." he admitted. "It ain't much futha'. We'll be fine." he added in an effort to reassure her. Angela nodded, still not fully convinced.

The following events were a blur. Angela shrieked as a hand grabbed her around the waist and roughly pulled her into an alley. She tried to scream but a hand was clamped down tight over her mouth, muffling the sound. She clawed at the hand and kicked her legs, using all of her strength to break free. She could feel the grip on her mouth loosen as she raked her fingernails over the skin. Still, it did little damage. Angela's petite size and light frame were no match for the hefty figure.

Angela stumbled as her captor jolted forward. There was a scuffling of feet as more figures converged around her. She continued to scream even though her throat was burning. Fear had taken over and she had no control. She gasped for air, her chest aching. The grip on her waist and mouth were released and she staggered forward and sank to her knees, near hyperventilating.

Several figures fought in the shadows. There was a shuffling and several grunts. They had the man backed up against the alley wall. With a few final punches the man groaned and crumpled to the ground. Angela watched, terrified, still gasping for breath.

Jack and Spot walked over to her. Jack knelt down and quietly asked, "Angela, are ya ok?" Angela looked at Jack blankly, her heart still racing, and shook her head.

"Where'd �e hurt ya?" Spot asked anxiously. He felt so stupid. Why hadn't he been paying more attention? This wouldn't have happened if it weren't for him. Jack shook his head. "Dat ain't what she means." he murmured. "Jack, I'm real sorry." Spot apologized humbly. Jack turned to him, amused. This was a side of Spot people rarely saw. "Aw, don't worry �bout it. It ain't ya fault. Ya couldn't �a done nothin' about it." Spot nodded thoughtfully. Angela smiled weakly at them. It was hard to understand them, they were speaking so softly. Still, she had some idea of what they were talking about.

Jack turned back to face Angela. She looked pretty shaken. "Hea'." he said and helped pull her to her feet. He frowned. The street lamp cast a sickly yellow light across her face and he could see she was still very frightened. She pursed her lips and looked into his eyes. He wanted to touch her but somehow, he couldn't. Not in the same way. She had changed. It was like her spirit was broken. Jack sighed. "Wea' goin' back to da lodgin' house." he said, sounding very tired. Spot nodded. "Ok, I'll see ya around den." Spot turned and slowly walked out of the alley, making his way back to Brooklyn.

Jack and Angela walked back to the lodging house in silence. As they crossed the street to the door, Jack said, "Johnny came �ere lookin' for ya."

"Yeah." Angela mumbled. Jack looked at her strangely. "What is it?" she asked, pausing in front of the lodging house. Jack shook his head. "Nothin'." he said and walked inside. Jack led Angela through the darkened rooms and up the stairs to the bunk room. Angela gazed at the sea of sleeping faces. Jack showed her to a little room by the window. Angela suspected it had originally been a storage closet. There was a cot and a small nightstand in the room.

"Thank you," she said.

"Anytime," he shrugged. "It's late. G'night."