My entry for this week’s Finish That Thought:
Her mind was seized with a sense of terror so intense she wept. Just past the quivering silver stiletto in her face, Kadie saw the junkie’s eyes, windows into a soul that was living horrors of its own.
She had laughed when she got the can of mace her mother had sent. She sorely regretted leaving it on the kitchen counter. Kadie had no protection now, not from him or the rain. He had jerked her umbrella out of her hand so he could push her back against the bricks.
He leaned in close, but not quite touching her. His breath reeked of the recent vomit he hadn’t bothered to brush away. His intended order sounded more like a wimpering plea, “Give me the bag.”
She blinked at the childish whine of his voice, sending a furious flush through his pale face. “I said give it to me!”
She jumped, then jerked to take the strap from across her torso. As her hand came up, it bumped his arm. His fist slammed into her throat.
“Don’t fight, just give me the bag!” His knuckles ground into her windpipe, she couldn’t tell him she was trying to comply. Tears raced against the rain pouring over her face as she struggled to get a breath. The world was turning grey. Kadie gazed at dark windows behind the junkie through a grimy screen. She closed her eyes.
The pressure against her windpipe lifted, to be replaced by sharp pain in the side of her neck. The rain pouring down over her left shoulder was suddenly much warmer.
She opened her eyes to watch him cut the beige strap of her favorite Nine West purse, and jerk it from her. She collapsed to the soaked street, and watched him run off into the night. She felt something spreading beneath her, coming from her pants. Oddly, the warm fluids reminded her of gravy, and she died wondering who would turn off the crock pot at her desolate apartment.
Word Count: 333
Special Challenge: Accepted