Upon Wings Of Change

The chill of the autumn evening bit through Tasha’s light coat as she zipped it higher, the last lingering warmth of the library fading with the setting sun. She clutched her backpack, heavy with textbooks, a silent testament to the five hours she’d just spent poring over notes. Ninety-five percent. That was the magic number for the scholarship.

“No worries. The library is about to close, so I’ll walk over to your workplace and meet you in the lobby. It is only about six blocks away.” She’d told her friend, the promise of a fancy coffee her unspoken payment for the daily pick-up.

Earbuds in, lecture playing, she walked down the mostly empty sidewalks, the drone of the professor a monotonous lullaby. Her mind wandered, tired but resolute.

Then, the moving van. The sudden lunge. A gloved hand clamped over her mouth, muffling her scream. Panic flared, raw and desperate, as four, then six, men overwhelmed her. A sharp prick on her arm, the sight of an empty syringe, and the world began to swim.

“Mhhmmph!” The faint, muffled sound was all she managed as strength ebbed, and darkness swallowed her whole.