Then he heard it again. The scream, more desperate, and the unmistakable sound of fear in her struggle. "Goddammit," he muttered, grinding to a halt. Walk away. You can walk away. Let someone else deal with it. His pulse was heavy in his ears as he glanced around. Empty street, empty conscience. No one else here to stop it. Be better. Do better. That’s what he told himself when the guilt got too much and the liquor didn’t hit fast enough.

Now I'm ready to close my eyes
And now I'm ready to close my mind
And now I'm ready to feel your hand
And lose my heart on the burning sands

Now I Wanna Be Your Dog -The Stooges

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