“Take your shot, stranger. You’ll only get one.”

Sariah held her gun with both hands to try to hide how she was shaking. A scowl was fixed on her face, but deep down she was terrified. And he knew it. The tall man, dressed in a fine black vest, coat-tails flowing in the wind. The rain had soaked them both head to toe. She held the gun firm, her finger on the trigger. She had the shot. He was only a few feet from her. So why couldn’t she pull the damn trigger.

“Here, let me make it easy for you.” The man smiled, stepping forward slowly, bending slightly to bring the barrel of the gun to his forehead. “There. Do it.”

He had a wild look in his eyes, intent, determined. Mad. He was completely mad. He was offering himself. All she had to do was pull. The. Trigger.

A moment passed in silence, only the rain pattering against the cement broke the intense quiet.

“No, I didn’t think so.” He laughed, tossing his head up to the rain and started to laugh.

She couldn’t hide the shaking now. Then she felt the impact of the man’s fist colliding with her stomach, forcing the air from her lungs. Sariah fell to her knees, gasping. The man kicked the gun from her hand, sending it rattling across the pavement. Then she felt rough hands around her neck. Her body went upright and then she felt her feet leave the ground as she lifted her by the throat. Her trachea screamed out in pain as she struggled against him. But he was strong—she knew that. She looked down at him with disgust, her eyes burning as tears forced themselves out. Her head started to swim as she tried to focus on the contemptuous person in front of her.

“Well, Sariah,” he smiled up at her, “any last words for me?”