The Twelve

Have you ever heard the phrase, “You can’t judge a book by its cover?” Well, it’s definitely true. There I was, minding my own business, enjoying the last few sips of my iced vanilla latte, when suddenly, my world turned upside down. I heard a deafening crash and felt something heavy land on my foot.
I quickly looked up to see what had happened, and my jaw dropped. Standing before me was a large, muscular man, his face twisted into a menacing scowl. He was holding a baseball bat in his hand, and he was glaring down at me. I took an involuntary step back, my heart pounding in my chest.
The man started to walk towards me, and I froze. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I was about to be attacked by this stranger, and I had no idea why. As he got closer, I could see that he was drunk. His eyes were bloodshot, and his breath smelled like alcohol.
I knew I had to do something, but I didn’t know what. I couldn’t run away, because he would easily catch me. And I didn’t want to fight him, because I was sure I would lose.
So I did the only thing I could think of. I closed my eyes and waited for the worst. But the worst never came. I opened my eyes, and the man was gone. I looked around, but he was nowhere to be seen.
I was so relieved that I had gotten away, but I couldn’t stop wondering what had happened. Why had he attacked me? And where had he gone?
I decided to call the police, but they couldn’t find the man. They told me that I was lucky to be alive, and that I should be more careful in the future.
I took their advice to heart, and I started to avoid going out alone at night. But even though I was more careful, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the man was still out there, watching me.
One day, I was walking home from work when I saw him. He was sitting on a bench, drinking a beer. I tried to ignore him, but he kept staring at me. I started to walk faster, but he followed me.
I ran until I couldn’t run anymore. I stopped and turned around, and he was still there, just a few feet away. I knew I was going to die.
But then, something strange happened. The man started to speak. His voice was different from before. It was softer, and it sounded almost sad.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
I was so surprised that I didn’t know what to say. I just stood there, staring at him.
“I was drunk,” he continued. “I didn’t know what I was doing.”
I still didn’t say anything. I couldn’t believe that this was the same man who had attacked me.
“I just want to go home,” he said. “I want to be with my family.”
I looked at him, and I saw that he was telling the truth. He was just a lost, lonely man who had made a mistake.
I took a deep breath. “Okay,” I said. “I’ll help you.”
I took the man home, and I gave him some food and water. He thanked me, and then he went to bed. I stayed with him until he fell asleep, and then I left.
I never saw the man again, but I thought about him often. I wondered what had happened to him, and if he had ever found his way home.
I hope that he did. I hope that he found peace and happiness. And I hope that he never hurt anyone again.