I walked briskly down the alley. Alone. A cat hissed at me. Just for fun, I hissed back. The beast scuttled off with its tail high in the air. I heard the drip, drip, drip of a leaking pipe, the clip clop of my high heels and the thud, thud of his size 12 dress shoes. But I just went on as though I didn’t notice. Until he placed a hand on my shoulder and a knife at my throat.
He held my back close to his chest and steadied the weapon against my neck.
“Pretend that someone has a knife to your neck.”
“Well, someone does have a knife at my neck. I don’t have to do much pretending.” I answered with an attitude. I wasn’t worried much. I knew what to do.
“Just shut up and listen to me. Now, take me step by step through what you are going to do to escape.” His voice was quiet, but I heard it loud and clear near my right ear. My body tingled as his warm breath caressed my ear lobe. I caught a whiff of his cologne. The same as ever, a vanilla and cinnamon musk. I inhaled a deep breath, but waited to exhale so that I could get all the aspects of the scent I was surrounded by for so many years. After I exhaled, it was time that my arrogance surfaced again.
“Why would I do that? Then what I would do wouldn’t be a surprise.” I smiled slyly to myself, loving this power play. If I knew him as well as I thought I did, I knew that he so close to slit my throat. So, saving myself from being slaughtered, I lightly, just slowly, lightly, placed my hand on top of his. First move. In a quick, fluid movement, I raised my knee and back kicked him in the crotch. Score!
The rest I did with a smile on my face. Hurting him was one of my past times. Just to see him convulsing on the ground, moaning and groaning.
Second move. I pushed the hand holding the knife away from my neck. I clamped onto his wrist and twisted his hand so that it did a three sixty. I pushed his hand down so that it was near my feet. The knife fell to the soaking pavement.
Third move, my favorite. I lifted my high heeled foot and placed ever so lightly on his elbow. Pulling his arm up, and pushing my heel down on his elbow. He screamed as I came close to the breaking point.
“You wouldn’t dare,” he panted, his head bowed down so that I couldn’t see the pained expression.
“Would I, Jude? You dare me all the time. And this will be the first time I’ll take that dare. You should be happy, sweetheart.” I smirked at him as he looked up.
“Don’t. You will regret this.” I knew that I would. He never let a threat go.
“You’re right, I will. But you can’t do anything to me what your unconscious.”
“What?” I kicked him in the jaw. He dropped to the floor, and I heard a sickening snap. His arm broke.
“Oops. Well, it’s his fault.” I left him there and strolled down the street.
Thwack! The thing smacked the back of my head so hard I lost consciousness. I heard him laugh before I everything disappeared.
Here comes regret…