Part II:
Shortly after the newly unemployed reporter and cameraman cut their live feed of a bottomless girl helplessly dangling from a 2nd story window, that very girl lost her grip and fell to the earth in a heap.
Her shirt, previously caught on a harsh branch, was ripped open from behind. The tattered shirt spilling off during the descent, parting ways with our heap, and leaving her completely and utterly exposed.
In shock, the absent-minded duo didn’t know what to do. Here in front of them, in broad daylight (now that the rain had gone and clouds parted), was a beautiful 18-year old girl hunched over stark naked.
“Help!” the reporter yelled. “Help!”
“Shouldn’t we do something, call 9-11? I don’t know…something?” his cameraman asked.
“Are you kidding? They’ll think we’re sex criminals,” the presumptuous reporter said.
Lacey was woozy and feeble. Her arms, which had broken her fall, struggled to support her off the ground. She tried to shift her knees forward and move into a less exhibited position, but her body was letting her down. Every other sensation was heightened. A minor breeze wrapped its way through her legs teasing her, reminding her that every little spot was out in the open. The water-speckled grass dotting her with tiny of drops rain across her bare chest and thighs. Her knees and legs rasped with cold dirt.
Lacey’s groans were as faint as her awareness, but her vision remained intact. She could make out the figures pouring in from around the yard. More and more people looking over her, but her injuries left her unable to do anything about it.
When the crowd grew large enough to block out the sight of the street, Lacey finally passed out and woke up at midnight, in a hospital with both arms elevated in casts.
Lacey was disoriented. How did she get casts on her arms? Her mom was asleep on a chair in the corner of her somnolent room. There was a dim noise of wheels rolling outside the door, but the lion’s share of the sound came from the small TV in the upper right corner suspended from the ceiling.
A replay of the 7 o’clock news was on, featuring a buxom Spanish brunette reporter. And she was standing in front of Lacey’s house. Lacey didn’t want to watch this. Somebody change the channel she begged in her mind.
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