Page 56 of Mine To Hunt

My stomach drops. I shift to the side, trying to pass him without making a scene. My shoulder brushes the wall as I move.

His hand shoots out and clamps around my arm. The world narrows instantly. Heat floods my chest. My breath catches, sharp and painful.

“Let go of me.” I say, my voice thin and shaking as I pull back, my skin crawling where he’s touching me.

He laughs crudely, yanking me closer despite my struggles. "Nah. You look fun."

His hand clamps over my breast, squeezing painfully, while his other fist twists harshly in my hair, pulling my head back. Panic surges through me as he shoves me to the ground, his weight pinning me down.

"You're mine now." He growls, fumbling with my clothes.

Terror chokes me, tears streaming down my face. "Stop! Get off me!"

I struggle wildly, my body acting before my thoughts can catch up. My hands scrape against the ground, against the wall, against anything within reach. I’m not thinking clearly. Only that I have to get away.

My fingers hit something solid. A brick. Loose. Rough against my palm. I grip it without stopping to question it. I lift my arm and swing with everything I have left.

The sound it makes when it hits him is dull and heavy. Wrong. He lets out a sharp cry and stumbles backward, one hand flying to his head. His grip loosens. Then it’s gone.

I don’t wait to see what he’ll do next. Instead I scramble to my feet, legs shaking so badly I almost fall again. Fear pushes me forward, carrying me down the alley and onto the street. I runwithout looking where I’m going, my breath tearing in and out of my chest.

I glance back once. He’s not there. The space behind me is empty. Too empty. The fear doesn’t ease. It twists into something colder, sharper. But I keep running until my building comes into view.

Inside my flat, I slam the door shut and lock it. My knees give out, and I slide down until I’m sitting on the floor, my back pressed hard against the door like it might disappear if I let go.

The sobs come then. Deep, ugly, unstoppable.

I crawl across the floor to the mantel and grab the framed photo of my parents. My hands shake as I pull it close, pressing it against my chest.

“Why did you leave me?” I whisper, my voice breaking. “Why am I alone here in this godforsaken place? Everything hurts. I need you.”

My tears blur their faces. The frame grows slick in my hands, but I don’t loosen my grip. I hold it like it’s the only solid thing left in the room.

Eventually, the crying drains out of me. My body feels heavy, numb. Exhaustion settles in before the fear fully lets go.

I fall asleep right there on the floor, curled around the photo, still holding on.

Chapter 17

Her

Waking up on the hard floor, my body feels stiff and aching from the uncomfortable position I fell asleep in last night. The terror from the alley attack still clings to me like a bad dream that refuses to fade, making my heart race even now in the safety of daylight.

I sit up slowly, rubbing my sore neck and glancing at the photo of my parents still clutched in my hand. Grief mixes with the fear, leaving me feeling drained and vulnerable.

I cannot afford to dwell on it today because I have work to attend, but the emotions weigh heavy on my chest as I force myself to stand and get ready.

I splash cold water on my face in the bathroom, hoping it will wash away some of the exhaustion etched into my features. My eyes look puffy from crying, and the memory of that drunk guy's hands on me sends a shiver down my spine.

After a quick shower, I dress in a simple blouse and slacks, but the unease lingers, making me feel exposed even in my own home. As I grab my bag and head out the door, determinationsets in. I will not let last night define me. I need to protect myself better from now on.

On my way to the bus stop, I spot a small security shop that sells self-defense items. The attack replays in my mind, fueling my resolve to never feel that helpless again.

I walk inside, the bell jingling as I enter. A middle-aged clerk behind the counter looks up from his newspaper. "Morning, miss. Can I help you find something?"

“I’m looking for pepper spray.” I say, forcing my voice steady. “Maybe a taser. Something small I can carry.”

The clerk freezes for half a second. “Yeah… we don’t sell those.” He says carefully.