her

uncoordinated. He collapsed onto the mattress, pawi

rning, his eyes scanning the room. His gaze swept past the heavy velvet curtains where I stood pressed into th

led in my skull, but I held it down, drowning it beneath the cold, b

the pre

He squinted toward the bathroom door, then toward

o

mo

ay. Fo

opener shifted in my grip, rotating so the brass point angled downward, align

skey souring on his skin when his e

rted t

la

gth I possessed-strength born of years of repressed rage, of nights lying awake memorizin

ural cry tore

nto the muscle beneath. Blood, dark in the moon

The pain hadn't registered yet. His brain was still struggling

he ago

me, his uninjured arm swinging wildly. The bac

the heavy armoire. The impact sent a jolt of pain down my arm, my knuckles scraping against th

drop the le

d. I blinked the stars away and found him again. He was clutching his wou

rds came out strangl

My free hand braced against the armoire. I could feel the warm trickle of blood runnin

again. I watched the calculation happen behind his eyes-the drunk, ent

nged

ound, by the alcohol, by the shock.

n pivoted my body, using his own momentum to drag him off balance. The letter

umbled backward, blood now

e it clear I was not retreating. The letter opener drip

ut," I

cut through the silence with

n, into the thing that now lived behind my eyes. Something cold. Something patient. Some

laced by a dawning, primal fear. This was not

trouble he was in.

retreat as pathetic and cowardly as his attack had been arrogant. He ran so fast, so blindly,

ootsteps faded int

aline dra

floor, the letter opener falling from my nervel

now-his and mine, mingled together. I could smell it, the phantom

truck first.

used to be died, and something new, something harder and more r