“I—” I began, and then stopped. I was trying to sort through my thoughts, I finally whispered urgently, “Sir! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean—he doesn’t mean—anything. I was—frightened—” This last was stretching the truth to breaking point, but somehow it seemed true now. After saying this, I opened my mouth, but couldn’t say anything. But I began to sob, quietly.
I felt myself clinging to the phone like a castaway clinging to a life raft, while all I could hear on the other end was a silence that seemed to go on and on.
“You want me to come get you?” came the voice suddenly. There was still a guardedness in the tone, but the offer made me give a stifled cry of joy.
“Yes!” I half-whispered. “Yes, please, Sir!”
“Where are you?”
I gave my location, then whispered, “What should I do? Go out onto the street?”
“Stay where you are!” The voice was commanding.
“Yes, Sir,” I murmured, and heard the click at the other end.