Naomi looked her directly in the eye, her voice quiet but ringing with defiance. “Our mother knows exactly where we are, and she’s not going to be happy when she finds out how you treated us.”
That quiet dignity sent Rebecca over the edge. She grabbed Naomi’s arm and yanked her violently into the aisle. Naomi cried out as her knee caught the armrest. Blood appeared immediately, running down her shin. Rebecca grabbed Simone and Jasmine, two fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. She dragged the three screaming, terrified girls down the aisle toward the back of the plane.
Jeffrey Davidson called 911. “Yes, I’m on Flight 447… A flight attendant is physically assaulting three minor passengers. We need police at JFK when we land.”
Rebecca dragged them all the way to the back. She stopped in the aisle, still gripping the girls. They were sobbing, terrified. Blood, tears, and spit now stained their purple dresses.
Rebecca stood over them, her chest heaving, her face twisted with a sick satisfaction. She had won. She had shown them.
Then, with deliberate, calculated cruelty, she gathered saliva in her mouth, leaned down, and spat directly into Simone’s face.