No Longer My Word Against Theirs
They had loaded my unconscious body into a car, and driven me miles from home, and left me behind a dumpster in a strange industrial alley in the cold.
And they had taken my phone, and my ID, and my wallet, and even my shoes.
At first I had thought that was robbery.
Now I understood it was something colder and more deliberate: it was designed to delay, as long as possible, any chance of my getting help.
No phone to call for aid.
No ID for a good Samaritan to identify me.
No shoes to walk out on.