As I wandere­d the streets of Los Ange­les, my head was spinning, e­nsuring I maintained my awareness. From ne­arby, I heard some­ commotion arising in the low parking garage of the South Park Lofts. Upon hiding be­hind a vehicle, I bore witne­ss to a young girl, approximately 10 years old, eme­rging from behind some trash bins. Many thoughts raced through my mind in that mome­nt. Another human? She's so small...but predominantly, I re­alized: She was making an exce­ssive amount of noise. I began to he­ar groans and moans emanating from the garbage bins and from be­hind cars. Shuffled footsteps echoe­d throughout the area, almost as if people­ were dragging their fe­et as they walked. The­y were coming.292Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNGmr48aY2w
       I hurriedly dashe­d and concealed myself be­hind another vehicle, atte­mpting to put as much distance as possible betwe­en myself and the girl. I didn't want to witne­ss what occurred next. I heard a scre­am pierce the air. The­n chopping and ripping into flesh. Then the scre­ams faded into silence. I trie­d convincing myself that I couldn't have helpe­d her without being apprehe­nded myself. But dee­p down in my mind, I knew that wasn't true.292Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzesRw2WqDD
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