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Don’t freak out.
Focus.
I fill my lungs.
What would Hans do?
I picture Hans jumping through the back door of a hijacked school bus, throwing a knife through the eye socket of an unsuspecting kidnapper.
I picture Hans biting down on a stack of Post-its while using a wall-mounted sword to behead a man.
I picture him luring the other men into view with a stolen walkie-talkie before blowing away their skulls without hesitation.
I know what Hans would do.
Hans would fight dirty.
I do my best to fake a stumble, causing Andre to lean to the side to support more of my weight. Then I jerk my arm down as hard as I can.
The movement is sudden enough that he lets go and close enough in timing to my stumble for him to think I’m just falling. Meaning he’s not completely on guard.
When Andre turns to get another grip on me, I turn toward him and knee him in his balls as hard as I can.
The strangled sound that comes out of him fills me with satisfaction.
But when I turn to run, my sock-covered feet slip on the smooth floor.
It’s just a second. Just half a second before I catch my balance. But it’s enough.
Andre grips my hair.
I struggle to keep my feet under me as my scalp screams in pain. But I can’t fall. If I do, I have no doubt he’ll drag me by my ponytail.
“I’m going to fucking kill you.” I can hear the pain in his voice, and it’s the only comfort I have when he drags me in front of him and backhands my cheek.
My eyes fill with tears.
I’m not crying.
I am not crying.
It just fucking hurts when a grown-ass man baby hits you.
He shakes me by my hair.
It also hurts when someone mean pulls your hair.
I reach up and cling to Andre’s forearm, trying to hold my weight up with his arm and take the pressure off my scalp. It lessens the pain, just a little, and I’m able to stay on my feet as he drags me down the long hall.
When Hans pulled my hair, he knew how to make it feel good. And even with tears still trailing down my cheeks, I try to remember that. Try to remember that a good man can make anything feel good.
I won’t let Evil Andre ruin hair pulling for me.
We keep moving down the incredibly long hallway. Men are visible, but I don’t bother calling for help. There is literally no way to confuse me for a willing participant, and none of the men milling around with assault weapons are giving me so much as a glance.
Cool, everyone here is a piece of shit.
I hope Hans kills all of them.
