I...

I don't think about that day very often.

It was a few years back. After the war ended and San Francisco was reduced to ash. Just a few days after...

I remember that the whole country froze. Nobody left their homes, nobody went to work or went to school. America was paralyzed. On that fateful day, everybody lost something; even the degenerates and the nobodies. America is a tune and it must be sung together. However, that day, a chunk of the choir was taken out.

I was only 16 years old when that bomb fell.

The following months and years consisted of constant attacks, harassment and assault. Bullying, outrage and discrimination. I had almost abandoned all hope.

I remember a specific moment in particular that gave me a sliver of hope. One day, as I was walking home from school, I remember when a pack of hoodlums ganged up on me. I was walking through an alleyway when a few skinheads around my age approached me. There was one tall guy in particular -- presumably the leader of the gang. I kept away from the group of hoodlums, hoping that they would leave me be.

As if.

The first thing that happens is when two of the thugs pull out shanks and slowly shimmy up to me. I took steps back to stay away from them. Eventually, as I stepped back and bumped into a wall. I was cornered.

The two thugs lifted up their shanks and pressed them against my body; one touching my neck and one touching my gut. The thug on the left said with a grainy voice, "'Ey, sweetheart! Long time no see, lady!"

I was completely still. My eyes were peeled and my heart was pounding. I was wearing a new dress that my mother had bought me, which was uncommon back then. Something like that dress was one of the only things left that had value to me, and one of the only things left that kept me happy.

The thug lifted up his dagger and slashed my dress open across the front. Part of the dagger scratched open my belly and I bled pretty badly. The tall hoodlum pushed over his goons and grabbed my dress, pulling me towards him. "You not gonna talk, little lady?!"

Around the corner of the alley came a man I don't think I'll even forget. He had a brownish-red beard and hair and a scar over his eye. He was wearing an Army-green colored jacket with an insignia on the arm. He saw the hoodlums cornering me at knife point, grabbing and groping me as I helplessly stood still petrified. The man dropped what he was doing and ran towards the hoodlums.

He pulled out a handgun from the inside of his coat and aimed it at the head of the leader of the gang. He simply muttered, "Get your hands off of her."

The tall thug turned around and tilted his head at the man. "Who are you to decide, bud?"

The man with the gun said, "This gun is the only one here that's gonna decide." He swung his gun across the face of the tall thug, instantly incapacitating him and sending him to the ground with a broken bloody nose. The other two gangsters dropped their shanks and ran away.

I was on the floor trying to patch up the cut with the fabric of my dress. The man who saved me walked up to me and handed me his coat. "Put this on. You can't walk around in public with those scraps on."

I put on his over-sized jacket. He looked at me and chuckled. "Do these assholes always pick on you?"

I looked at him and answered honestly. "More often than you would think. I usually try to sneak away from them, but usually that doesn't work."

"Why don't you ever fight back?"

"I can't. I was never taught how to fight. Just to run."

He got down on his knees and looked me in the eyes with a sincere look. "If you want to survive in this kind of world, you need to learn to defend yourself. I'm sick of seeing the helpless getting their spirits pushed down."

I was curious as to why he was acting the way he was. "I'm surprised you stopped to help me," I said.

"I spent too many years of my life fighting a war without end. I had good friends and fellow men die before my eyes. The last thing that I want to see is more innocent people getting hurt."

I looked at him and tried to accept his advice. Looking back, I probably should've paid more attention to what he said.

He stood up. "My name is Aubrey. Who are you?"

I answered. "My name is Kalea. I'm not from around here, if you could tell."

"Why would I be able to tell? America is an arrangement of different types of people. It doesn't matter if you're black, white, blind, crippled, crazy or a mix of them all. You're still an American."

"I guess that makes sense."

"Well, look." He took a look at the incapacitated gang leader on the ground. "This isn't the best place to stick around. Kid, listen. You need to learn how to keep these twats off of you. Don't let someone play you like a doll. I'll teach you how to fight back, if you want."

I enthusiastically nodded. "Please," I said. "Anything to protect myself."

"Well, you'll have to wait. Meet me at the park this weekend. I don't have anything better to do on the weekends."

"My mom always told me to keep away from strangers."

"Well, I'd say you're not a kid anymore and keeping away from strangers isn't solving anything. Do what you want. I'll be there."

On the weekend, I went to Aubrey's spot. He taught me how to block punches, disarm weapons, swing a bat to disable an enemy. I felt like I was in power, like I could actually stand up against my problems.

My life went pretty smoothly from there. I got beat up and scratched time to time but eventually people learned to stand down and keep away from me.