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Fuck!
Blood soaks my shirt with streaking pain.
So it’s a proper death match now.
I barrel into him, forcing him back, straight through the glass doors and into the condo. Glass shatters around us with a deafening explosion, cutting through the soles of my shoes.
We crash into a table, rolling across the floor in vicious confusion.
Haute swings, but he’s lost his bottle in the fray.
All he has now are his fists.
They’re enough.
He punches me back before scrambling to his feet. I match him and we face each other, chests heaving.
Damn.
If I give him any time to recover, there’s a chance he’ll beat me in a fight. He’s got the weight and size advantage and I’m hurt, bleeding like hell.
Keep moving.
It’s my only chance.
I swing left, around the back of the sofa, bolting into the kitchen. A huge wooden table dominates the center of the room with an ugly-ass pig jar. Whoever decorated this place must’ve been high or catering totally to eccentric artists, but I don’t have time to think about that.
I also don’t have time to search through the drawers for a knife.
Haute pounds after me.
I swipe the pig jar off the table just as I swing around and run into the wide-open studio space with more room to maneuver.
The ceramic pig feels like a lead weight in my arms as I turn. Adrenaline foams in my mouth as Haute barrels into me and—
We crash down on the floor again.
Just two big, overgrown men brawling like warring gorillas, blood smearing stark and ugly against the off-white subway tile.
Only this time, I’ve got the jar.
I have a weapon.
And I still have my grip and just enough of my reflexes left.
With all my might, I swing my arms like a human tornado.
There’s a loud crack from Forrest Haute’s head.
Then he isn’t wrestling me anymore.
He’s slumping to the ground like a deflated punching bag.
I shove him off unsteadily, staggering to my feet in this mess of a studio.
The table’s shattered, wood and splinters everywhere. Dust is still settling in the late afternoon sunlight streaming through the balcony door.
Oddly, the pig jar split apart neatly, lying in two pieces on the ground next to Haute’s prone body.
