James Turnbow

He was whispering to himself now.

Cobwebs tickled my ears as I curled up under the makeshift bed.

I could hear Johnny sniffing around the shelter, as if my socks were the only lifeline tying him to earth.

I hoped the bastard was bleeding.

The man tripped, and I heard metal hit stone.

It was only then that I realized the knife wasn't in my hand anymore.

His clothes ruffled as he bent over.

The wind roared outside.

I closed my eyes and wished I were anywhere else.

The rough concrete bit at my back as I did my best to make myself as small as possible.

He walked towards me.

I put my hand to my mouth to kill a screen before it could escape.

In the dark, I saw the shape of his boots stop inches from my face.

The old cloth stretched and groaned under his weight as he took a seat above me.

When you played Thanos in districts.

You've got a hell of a layup.

The bastard was toying with me.

I didn't answer, just felt the dust thicken to mud around my face as it mixed with my tears.

He shifted around as if making himself comfortable.

I don't want to hurt you, Sarah.