y away. Not afte

ed on the chipped concrete steps outside, watching the sky bleed from orange to a bruised

tale beer and sweat. Ray Donahue, a neighbor she'd seen coming and going. His eyes,

he slurred, moving toward her. "Wh

ely, her skin crawling. "

d out and grabbed her wrist, his grip surprisingly stro

d fast. Panic, cold and sharp, seized her. He started t

id, l

heard

et, flat, and col

reet, bathed in the orange glow of a streetlight. The exhaustion wa

dn't posture. He bent down, his hand closing arou

he brick down with desperate force. It wasn't a calculated strike, but a raw ex

k, followed by a scr

mbled away, her heart trying to

nd, clutching his m

his chest heaving. The look in his eyes wa

g forward and grabbing his arm.

dness in his eyes receded, replaced by a dawning horror

to the pavement

e dead, you psycho bastard!"

toward the apartment building. He half-dragged her up the rickety stairs to the secon

unging them into the near-da

was sparse, almost empty. A mattress on the floor, a single wo

he whispered,

back to her, his shoulders rigid. "You see?" he said, his v

oathing. "I'm violent. I'm dangerous. I'm the trash t

You got your little charity project to perform for you. You c

iest parts, hoping it would be enough to make her r

he shook her head, her voice fi

ode to the door and wrenched it open, po

Don't you get it? He's going to call the cops. They're going

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