The dead body of Mr. Munts was gushing blood from his neck. The mystery woman was cleaning off her knife with Mr. Munts’ desk doily. “So.” She spat on the blade, giving it a final rub, before sheathing it on her belt. “What to do about this situation.”
Violet shook. It was like time had both sped up and stopped all together. Up was down, down was up. If Violet wasn’t careful, she’d get sick all over the floor. At the woman’s words, she could say nothing, but merely pressed her sweaty back against the door. The woman sighed and stepped forward. Violet flinched back immediately, but the stranger didn’t seem ready to kill her. She knelt down, her face serious. “He hurt you? Violate you?” she asked. Violet shook her head. “Good. Then do yourself a favor, child. Stay calm. Walk away. And if an
