To Perceive an Image

Four: Images of A Pretty Stranger

TBD LOCATION, September 06, 2040, 1:30 AM

How do I run away without looking like I'm running away?

The owner of the deepest voice I've ever heard is about a few feet away from me. The growing sound of their steps tells me that. As a result, my breathing grew heavier by the second.

I cannot move at all; I can hear my brain yell at me to move, scream, shout, something, anything.

Swallowing the lump in my throat as I hear the person pull something out of their pocket, the courage to take a single step rises within me. Words come out of their mouth, but I don't know their intent. The world around me is as frozen as I am.

What if he's some creep stalking me? Worse, what if he's under the influence? What if he's pulling out a weapon?

My shaking hand goes to my pocket to pull out the self-defense keychain for situations like this. You can never be too safe. I don't know what he's getting from that pocket, but I'll assume it's not a welcoming banner. It has to be a weapon or a cloth coated with sleeping medicine.

A low rumble rises to my throat when I realize my keychain is in my work pants at home. I have seconds left before the person is in front of me. Think of something, Azail, quick!

Fuck, Fuck, Fuck. Think, Think, Think.

What did that self-defense video tell me to do, damn it?

My brain had to stop working in life-threatening situations.

My eyes widen when I remember a small portion of what I saw in that video. I do not have the strength to do too much damage, but I'll try to do something that'll give me a few seconds to run.

Ah! Attack your assailant's eyes with your index and middle fingers. Do it as if you were going for a punch with your two fingers targeting a sensitive spot.

When I sense the person standing inches away from me, I make an abrupt turn while raising my arm, aiming for their eyes. The video said to aim with your knuckles. But the nails on my fingers are long enough to cause some serious damage to their eyes. As my fingers are about two inches away from my assailant's eyes, a large hand clutches my wrist. My movements stop due to the strength the person is using to hold it.

I don't back down that fast. Try better, bitch.

Trying the same tactic again, now adding another one for optimal damage. After my assailant clutches their eyes, I raise my leg, kneeing them where the sun doesn't shine. It will hurt no matter what.

A loud groan comes from the person's mouth as they kneel on the ground.

"I-I'm s-so sorry," their deep voice says, still groaning.

For someone who almost attacked me, that sure sounds like a sincere apology.

Whatever, not my business, I begin running to the same place that landed me in this hellhole.

A couple of seconds pass before I hear the person make slow movements to stand up. They're lucky they're on the ground full of soft, almost cushiony grass. Or else that would bring a whole other injury.

"Please come back. I'm harmless, I swear," they plead, shouting. Well, shouting as best as they can mid-groans.

I see them come up to a standing position, looking like the most pathetic person. I have never seen someone have that mouth scrunching, eyes closed, pained expression since my baba's accident. You're going to the worst place ever for comparing this to your father's situation, Azail.

I make sure I'm a relative distance away before halting my run and tilting my head to get a glance. Said distance being across the street, a few houses down.