Should we get involved? I was walking down a dimly lit street late one evening when I heard muffled screams coming from behind a clump of bushes. Alarmed, I slowed down to listen, and panicked when I realized that what was hearing were the unmistakable sounds of a struggle; heavy grunting, frantic scuffling, the tearing of fabric. Only yards away from where I stood, a woman was being attacked. Should I get involved? I was frightened for my own safety,and cursed myself for having suddenly decided to take a new route home that night. What if I became another statistic? Shouldnt I just walk away and call the police? But they would never get there in time. Although it seemed like an eternity, the deliberations in my head had only taken seconds, but already the womans cries were growing weaker. I knew I had to act fast. How could I walk away from this? No, I finally resolved, I could not turn my back on the fate of this unknown woman, even if it meant risking my own life I am not a brave man, nor am I athletic. I dont know where I found the moral courage and physical strength----but once I resolved to help I became strangely transformed. I ran behind the bushes and pulled the assailant off the woman. Grappling, we fell to the ground where we wrestled for a few minutes until the attacker jumped up and escaped. Panting hard, I scrambled upright and approached the woman, who was crouched behind a tree, sobbing. In the darkness, I could barely see her outline, but I could certainly sense her trembling fear. Not wanting to frighten her further, I a first spoke to her from a distance. Its o.k. I said soothingly. The man ran away. Youre safe now. There was a long pause and then I heard her words, uttered in wonder, in amazement Dad is that you? And then, from behind the tree, stepped my youngest daughter, Katherine.
Posted on: Tue, 02 Sep 2014 13:56:12 +0000
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