Why would this word send chills up my spine. Did I do something to be afraid of the police?

I stammered, then said, “I don’t think going to the police is the answer.”

“Young lady, there are very likely people looking for you as we speak. Look at you, you don’t appear as if you’ve spent any time on the streets. You are wearing makeup, your clothes are clean, your fingernails are done. Whatever happened to you was fairly recent. Would you mind if we returned to the site where you…. for a better word, woke up?”

I sat with my hands in my lap, looking into the watery blue eyes of this old gentleman that was trying to help me, and all I wanted to do was run. Why?

“Sure,” I said, “Why not.”

We bundled up and stepped out into the blustery weather.
As we walked he asked me many questions. I couldn’t answer any of them. Glancing down the road I saw a police car approaching. I stiffened, and the old man, with his arm in mine, pulled me close. “You’re okay,” he whispered.

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