Page 3

I glanced around the bus, where there were thirty seats and only five people on board because it was almost midnight. And this fucker had chosen to plop down right next to me.

I was not in the mood to deal with a drunk, disgusting asshole.

I stood up and started to sidle past him when he grabbed my arm and pulled me down onto his lap.

Irritation quickly ignited into a vicious rage, spreading like fire beneath my skin.

I jabbed him hard in the stomach with my elbow, listening to the satisfying sound of pain that was pushed from his chest as he doubled over. Then I punched him in the dick and moved to the back of the bus, right next to the door.

“Fuck!” he screamed shrilly. “You fucking bitch!” He stumbled out of his seat, falling into the aisle. Everyone looked over at him as he lay with his hands over his groin, rolling back and forth. “I’ll fucking kill you!”

I snorted, drumming my fingers along the strap of my bag. One more stop. Just one more stop, and then I’d get off. I could even get off earlier, but then I’d be walking for an extra twenty minutes in a really shitty part of town.

“Fucking cunt,” he growled, and when I looked over at him, he was trying to get to his knees, glaring at me with hazy eyes. He was probably seeing three of me.

The bus driver was completely unfazed, staring straight ahead at the road like this kind of thing was the norm.

The drunk man finally got to his feet, swaying heavily. When the bus took a hard left, he fell into the seat beside him with a groan.

My stop was up ahead. I pulled the cord and stood by the door.

“Hey. Bitch. Where do you think you’re goin’, huh?”

Jesus Christ.

The bus stopped with a hiss, the doors opened, and I threw the bird at the man as a farewell. “Fuck you,” I spat, hopping off onto the pavement.

I set a fast pace toward the motel, gripping the strap of my bag.

“Hey! Get back he—” There was a loud rattle, and then, “Let me the fuck out!”

A thud sounded behind me and the bus sped off.

I threw a glance over my shoulder and heaved an enormous sigh when I saw the man sprawled on the ground, attempting to push to his hands and knees.

Fucking hell.

I quickened my pace, ignoring him. The street ahead was deserted, the filthy sidewalk littered with garbage. This particular area of the city was always empty save for a few squatters. Stores were boarded up, some with spray-painted signs declaring the business closed for good.

The scuffling of shoes behind me had me casting a wary glance back. He was moving faster than I thought he’d be able to, honestly.

For fuck’s sake.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my box cutter from work. I’d stupidly left my pocket knife at the motel this morning, so I’d just taken the box cutter with me for protection. And I was glad I did, because the man had some kind of second wind and sprinted at me, screaming obscenities that sounded like garble.

He was tall but didn’t have a lot of meat on his bones. In spite of that, I wasn’t sure I could take him in any kind of fight that didn’t include me holding a weapon of some sort. I tried to avoid fighting with men altogether because I was on the smaller side and it wouldn’t be very smart to engage in something I didn’t even know how to do, let alone with someone who was bigger and stronger than me.

“Fuck off!” I yelled over my shoulder, walking faster.

“Hey! Get back here!”

A hand around my arm had me spinning on him, and when I sank the blade of the box cutter into the back of his hand, he punched me in the neck. I grunted at the impact, trying to focus on keeping my hold on the box cutter.

“You stupid fucking asshole,” I snarled. He grabbed a fistful of my hair with his free hand and yanked my head back.

With an angry shout, I grabbed the handle of the box cutter with both hands and dragged it down, cutting through sinew and tendons and muscle. He immediately let go of my hair and screamed, ripping his hand away.

He only helped me cut him more. It sliced right through his skin, in between the knuckle of his index and middle fingers, until it was free.