Our bodies entangled, I have no way to break my fall, and as we land, my ribs cave, huffing the air out of me…
… but there’s no opportunity for the luxury of snatching back my breath…
He’s on me, hands outstretched for my neck. Julia darts in, fumbling at his belt…
A gun?
Fuck…
But it’s a knife, the blade silver-grey in the dull daylight, long and slender, looking all out of proportion to the slim hand holding it.
With Andres reaching for my throat, as I try to hold him off, Julia slashes at my arm, slicing open a long wound down my forearm.
Oddly, I feel no pain, and the blood which flows, cherry-bright, seeping into the white cotton of my tee-shirt, has a surreal quality about it… And my response is reflexive, my arm thrashing out sideways, catching her at the knee and knocking he
