Somewhere in the apartment, there’s a sound that is not the building settling. Probably another resident getting up to check their breakers too. Without the power on, I’m sure I’ll hear allkinds of things. Amazing how climate control softens the sounds of the outside world.
The floor is cold under my bare feet. I find the wall with my hand and move toward the doorway. The hallway is absolute dark. No windows there, so no city light. I had run to Opal’s room, so I didn’t think to grab my phone, and now, I have no flashlight. Lucky me.
But even in the dark, I see movement. I whisper, “Dario?”
Someone slams into me from the left, and then I’m fighting to reach for the wall, but a hand grabs for my arm and yanks me off-kilter. I tumble to the floor, with him on top of me.
We grapple in the pitch black. I try to roll him off of me, but he pushes me back down, and a fist knocks into my jaw. For a second, I can’t think. But my body reacts, kicking, hands grabbing for anything soft.
Nothing soft to grab. The man is lean and muscular beneath his thick sweater.
I grab for his throat, his eyes. But he grabs both of my hands in one of his, pinning them overhead. And then his free hand clasps around my throat.
“Mama!” Opal’s voice from her doorway.
Something surges in me, and I kick again and again, and I don’t stop. I’ll never stop.
“Fucks’ sake,” he grunts.
“Get off my mama!” A beam of Opal’s little flashlight cuts through the dark, frantic and swinging, and I hear things hitting the wall, and one of them bounces off the man on top of me.
“Goddamnit, kid!”
She screams at full volume, “Dario! Dario!” and another book knocks into the intruder’s head, distracting him.
I can see just enough of his face to know where his eyes are, and I jerk an arm free to scratch him there.
“Fuck!” He grabs at his face.
I suck a breath in and shout, “Get back in your room!”
But another book comes flying at him anyway. He snarls at the pain, and I claw at his face. He snaps, “I’ve got a gun! Stop fighting me!”
“The fuck I will!”
He reaches down, but I grab that arm. It takes two tries—the flashlight is swinging everywhere and, God love Opal, she’s still throwing things and screaming at him to leave me alone, adding, “You’re just a man! You’re not a ghost!”
I get his arm, but he’s got the gun—I see the shape of the barrel in the flashing light.
I go for it with both hands, fingers locking around his wrist, using my full body weight to twist and drive. I have to get the gun.
He’s bigger and stronger. I’m angrier.
I pull his arm up as best I can and find his arm as I twist into him, and bite down.
The gun fires.
I can’t hear a thing. Not the man, not Opal. There’s weight on me. Too much. Can’t breathe. I go still for half a second—I’m not shot, I’m not shot, I’m not shot, am I shot?
No. The first sound I hear is a miserable manly groan.
And Opal’s shriek.
I get out from under him and run to her. My hands are shaking. My ears are still ringing. “Baby, are you okay?” I use her flashlight to check her.
No wounds. Just terror.
Another flashlight beams at us. I move to get the gun from the man?—
