[ 17. ]

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May's blood roared in her ears as loud as one thousand sirens. Heat rushed through her veins, and she swung her arms backward, grappling at whoever had her by her hair. She twisted and tried to free herself from the tight hold. Her skull was on fire.

Get out, leave—run, stomp—fight? Fight!

Fragmented thoughts lit up her brain like forks of lightning. She had no formal training. Her mind was running wild with blankness and animalistic defense. With every move she would make, every step forward, every turn—her attacker was one step ahead.

May opened her mouth to scream, but the shock had momentarily stolen her voice. Before any sound could leave, a hand clamped itself over her mouth.

Pain! Cause pain! If I could—just get—that pinky! I—could dislocate it!

Her nails dug into the hand's flesh. May raked at one of the fingers, trying to bend it with all the force she could. Anything her bony fingers could clasp, she wrestled with. Her breathing was focused through her nose, heavy and forced.

It didn't matter what she did, the blanket of darkness wrapped itself around her and dragged her further into the black alley. May hoped to hear that sickening crack of her attacker's finger. Before long, a crinkle from his spasming hand rippled underneath her own fingers. It worked.

The assailant let go with a yelp and shoved her away from him. The force caused May to launch forward onto the ground below.

An opportunity. Go!

Her eyes widened, and she clawed at the alley floor, dirt caking itself underneath her fingernails. The scrapes on her legs sizzled in pain. She broke out into a wobbling sprint toward the only source of light. Her head twisted to peer over her shoulder.

May was wholly occupied with searching behind her. Frantic and unable to focus on the next step. What was next? Run and find help? No—

The same hand seized her bicep, and then another tightened around her wrist. She tumbled backward; a breath was sucked into her dry throat. Everything was blurry, and streaks of golden light from the street cast a scant sheen on to her nightmare.

She struggled against her attacker's hold, using her free hand to attempt an escape for the second time. May whipped her head upward to face them. Empty white eyes and a black mask stared back at her.

"Stop struggling," a frustrated voice pleaded. "Or don't. Your choice!"

May didn't stop. Her legs extended forward, stomping and kicking in a wild dance of distress. With a spark of anger and spirit rising in her throat, she opened her mouth to say something.

The air was snatched from her lungs. The attacker shifted and swung his body. They pivoted together, and May was thrown against the nearest wall. The back of her head lit up in agonizing pain, colorful stars exploding in her vision. Her legs crumpled to the floor on impact.

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