end, but maybe she would be able to find a fire escape left down at random. If she couldn’t find a way out, she’d have to hide and launch a surprise attack. She’d done it before and there’s a lot to be said about the element of surprise.
Her footsteps echoed all around her, amplified by the brick walls soaring up on either side of her like the walls of a prison. Her breath caught in her throat when she heard his footsteps stop. After some frantic searching and no fire escape later, Indi dived behind one of the dumpsters and waited for her opportunity. If this guy had half a brain, he would know that was where she was hiding, especially since she was panting from so much adrenalin. Forcing her breathing to slow, she held her breath and waited.
A few seconds later, his footsteps echoed through the alleyway. ‘Kitten, I know you’re hiding back here,’ he called. The sound of his steps competed with his words, making it difficult for her to pinpoint exactly where he was. ‘Where are you?’ he called in a sing-song voice.
Indi shifted her right leg forward, being careful not to make a sound, and pulled her knife from its sheath. She took comfort in the feeling of the blade in her hand. Taking a deep breath in, Indi retreated in on herself to find that place that was quiet and cold. This was her angry place––her safe place. She removed her fear completely, replacing it with her perpetually-raging anger. She stroked the imaginary cat that represented her rage. It pressed its head against her palm, nudging her to attack, but it wasn’t the right time yet.
Grit crunched under Mr Wright’s shoes, edging him closer to her and further into the alleyway. With the blade out and ready, Indi let go of her held breath and felt complete calm sluice over her head, across her shoulders and down her back.
‘If you just come out here Kitten, I’ll take it easy on you. I promise.’
Indi rotated her neck until every vertebra cracked individually. He knew exactly where she was. He was just playing with her. His shuffling footsteps ended around the corner of the dumpster, no more than a foot away from her. He was so close that she could hear him breathing. She steeled herself, ready to lunge for him. A trickle of anticipation burned through her body, stirring a low growl from her cat.
One more step, she thought.
One more step and then I attack.
One more step.
Chapter 7
Buddy pushed into a bar in downtown Buxton; the stench of stale beer, cigarettes and sex raping his olfactory senses. His sharp eyes surveyed his surroundings before he took a seat close to the liquor.
Throwing a coaster onto the pockmarked bar, the bartender asked, ‘What’ll it be Buddy?’
‘The usual,’ he replied from around the hand-rolled between his lips. The bartender grunted a reply and shuffled around the bar, producing cheap whiskey in a dirty shot glass and a beer chaser. ‘Thanks.’
He nodded. ‘You want me to start up a tab?’
Buddy thought about it for second. ‘Yeah. You do that.’
‘You got it.’
The shot of whiskey burned his throat as it went down, but he let it burn. He needed to feel this pain now. When the edge had worn off, he sucked back his beer, draining the bottle in one sitting. He wiped the back of his sleeve across his mouth. As he placed the bottle back on the bar, another shot of whiskey and a fresh beer were sitting there. His eyes met the near black of his new best friend behind the bar and he nodded.
By his sixth ride on the merry-go-shot, Buddy’s body hummed with warmth. The temperature of the liquor in his blood didn’t deaden his hard on for a fight though. If anything it made him hopped-up for more than just one. The sound of rough laughter brought his head up from looking down at his now empty shot glass.
The bar had slowly been filling up with the usual Wednesday night crowd as he sat there drinking himself into a stupor. Most of the cocksuckers were truckers wearing their
Her footsteps echoed all around her, amplified by the brick walls soaring up on either side of her like the walls of a prison. Her breath caught in her throat when she heard his footsteps stop. After some frantic searching and no fire escape later, Indi dived behind one of the dumpsters and waited for her opportunity. If this guy had half a brain, he would know that was where she was hiding, especially since she was panting from so much adrenalin. Forcing her breathing to slow, she held her breath and waited.
A few seconds later, his footsteps echoed through the alleyway. ‘Kitten, I know you’re hiding back here,’ he called. The sound of his steps competed with his words, making it difficult for her to pinpoint exactly where he was. ‘Where are you?’ he called in a sing-song voice.
Indi shifted her right leg forward, being careful not to make a sound, and pulled her knife from its sheath. She took comfort in the feeling of the blade in her hand. Taking a deep breath in, Indi retreated in on herself to find that place that was quiet and cold. This was her angry place––her safe place. She removed her fear completely, replacing it with her perpetually-raging anger. She stroked the imaginary cat that represented her rage. It pressed its head against her palm, nudging her to attack, but it wasn’t the right time yet.
Grit crunched under Mr Wright’s shoes, edging him closer to her and further into the alleyway. With the blade out and ready, Indi let go of her held breath and felt complete calm sluice over her head, across her shoulders and down her back.
‘If you just come out here Kitten, I’ll take it easy on you. I promise.’
Indi rotated her neck until every vertebra cracked individually. He knew exactly where she was. He was just playing with her. His shuffling footsteps ended around the corner of the dumpster, no more than a foot away from her. He was so close that she could hear him breathing. She steeled herself, ready to lunge for him. A trickle of anticipation burned through her body, stirring a low growl from her cat.
One more step, she thought.
One more step and then I attack.
One more step.
Chapter 7
Buddy pushed into a bar in downtown Buxton; the stench of stale beer, cigarettes and sex raping his olfactory senses. His sharp eyes surveyed his surroundings before he took a seat close to the liquor.
Throwing a coaster onto the pockmarked bar, the bartender asked, ‘What’ll it be Buddy?’
‘The usual,’ he replied from around the hand-rolled between his lips. The bartender grunted a reply and shuffled around the bar, producing cheap whiskey in a dirty shot glass and a beer chaser. ‘Thanks.’
He nodded. ‘You want me to start up a tab?’
Buddy thought about it for second. ‘Yeah. You do that.’
‘You got it.’
The shot of whiskey burned his throat as it went down, but he let it burn. He needed to feel this pain now. When the edge had worn off, he sucked back his beer, draining the bottle in one sitting. He wiped the back of his sleeve across his mouth. As he placed the bottle back on the bar, another shot of whiskey and a fresh beer were sitting there. His eyes met the near black of his new best friend behind the bar and he nodded.
By his sixth ride on the merry-go-shot, Buddy’s body hummed with warmth. The temperature of the liquor in his blood didn’t deaden his hard on for a fight though. If anything it made him hopped-up for more than just one. The sound of rough laughter brought his head up from looking down at his now empty shot glass.
The bar had slowly been filling up with the usual Wednesday night crowd as he sat there drinking himself into a stupor. Most of the cocksuckers were truckers wearing their
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