I was seventeen, my sister was fourteen. We lived in a safe neighborhood on the north side of Lancaster, so we walked a lot of places because I could drive but didn't yet have a car. One day, we were walking, and a car full of men in their mid-thirties pulled up beside us. They began yelling and whistling. Sadly, this didn't immediately bother me because it had happened so often before. We ignored them, and they swerved into an empty lot beside us and began getting out of the car (there were at least five of them, and they were sturdy looking guys). They began walking towards us. I looked at my sister and told her to run, as there was a convenience store somewhat close. She wasn't running very fast, and I was so scared they were going to catch up with us because they began running and we only had a small distance on them. We reached the store and I pulled her to the back corner where we crouched, trying to hide. The men ran in and were out of breath but were trying to play it cool like they were just browsing, but were obviously searching for us. One finally found us, gave us a long look like he was deciding what to do, and then the manager of the store walked over. The men left. The manager asked us if we were ok and we said yes and then called my dad to pick us up, but in hindsight I should have insisted that someone call the police.