“Ain’t ya gonna answer me?” he growls, impatient.
Remaining frozen with fear, my eyes meet his for a brief moment before slipping back down to the blood on his cuff.
He catches me in the act, his eyes flicking down to the blood, then back up to mine. Head cocked to the side, his expression turns void, no signs that a human soul resides within this man, this devil’s serpent, as his fist connects with the side of my head.
Skull splintering in pain, my keys slip from my jellified fingers, the notebook following in its wake.
Now I lay me down to sleep . . .
I hit the ground, my nails clawing at the cold pavement beneath me as I try to regain my bearings, try to get to my feet.
I pray the Lord my soul to keep . . .
Starting to blank out, he rolls me onto my back with the tip of his boot, his evil face inches from mine as he crouches down, hovering above me.
If I die before I wake . . .
As my surroundings fade to black, my eyes drifting closed as the warmth of my blood pools around my head, comforting me in some sick way, the only thing I can think of is my two boys. If my two shooting stars—though one brighter than the other in my sky—are going to be okay without me, able to make amends without their weakness blocking their way.
I pray the Lord my soul to take . . .