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I swung the bottle of salad dressing over my shoulder without looking and didn’t let go until I felt contact and heard a grunt, followed by the crack of the bottle hitting the floor. The beer bottle slid out of my other hand, joining the salad dressing on the floor. I lunged toward the knives on the kitchen counter, but the fridge door was in my way. The fridge lurched and the door creaked as I slammed into it and pushed through. A couple of steps and a knife was in my hand.
I tried to get a good, solid grip, but it took too long. A man’s strong arms crushed me. I let out a banshee shriek but held on to the knife. One of his arms slid down my side and squeezed my wrist, harder and harder. I wiggled and shimmied and kicked, but my fingers were opening and I couldn’t make them stop. I j
