It was about two in the morning by then. Pat looked around, and the street was quiet, with no movement at all. Then, she saw a house across the street with a light on in what looked like a bathroom. She studied it for a few minutes, and then the light went out. Someone was up in that house. Maybe she could get help. What if it's a man and a naked girl comes knocking on his door? Will she be raped again like the story in the newspaper? Even if it’s a woman, she could slam the door in her face for fear of getting involved.
She knew she would have to do it now if she was going to do it at all. She decided it was worth a chance and pounded on the door, screaming as loud as she could, "Help me please, somebody help me!" That way, if she was in trouble at that house, maybe someone else will hear and help. She saw the light in the living room turn on. As the door opened in what seemed to be slow motion, she saw a short, portly black woman looking through the storm door at her. Her hair was rolled in pink sponge hair rollers wrapped in a red scarf as she looked to see who was causing all the commotion on her front porch. Pat could see the worry and kindness in her eyes, and she knew her ordeal was over.
The woman opened the storm door to usher Pat into the safety of her home. Her name was Shirley Brown. She sent her husband Charles out to make sure he was gone. Shirley wrapped a blanket around Pat but had the good sense not to let her wash off. She knew the police would need pictures and to do a rape kit before she could do that.
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