But the moment quickly passes, and I tense up when her entire body begins to tremble, her arms wrapping tighter around her little dog as her pale blue-gray eyes slowly slide away from mine and shift to something behind me, widening with new fear.

I realize we’re not alone.

I turn to see a man coming toward us, his lips set in a grim line, fists clenched at his sides.

“No…no…no,” the girl whispers frantically behind me as I rise to my feet. “The bad man is coming.”

He quickly closes the space between us and throws a punch at me before I have a chance to block him. His fist crashes into the side of my face. I shake my head; then I throw my body against his and take him down hard to the ground. He’s clutching an eight-inch blade in his hand.

He came prepared.

His eyes are dark, blank pits, and if the saying that the eyes are the windows to the soul is true, this man definitely has no soul. I can almost feel the evil radiating off of him, and his determination to win this fight. I wrestle him for the knife as he tries to sink it into my gut, knowing without a doubt that he’ll definitely kill me if I don’t get it out of his grip.

Fighting to twist the knife out of his hand, I get on top of him, my knees pinning his shoulders down. Suddenly the girl appears, holding a large rock in her shaking hands. A scream erupts from her as she brings the rock down hard on his head. He lets out a surprised grunt, his eyes rolling back into his head, and slowly goes limp. He drops the knife, which she grabs and throws a few feet away. She’s panting and shaking from the effort, but her eyes meet mine for a second. There’s determination and strength there as she stares back at me. There is silent agreement.

The little dog makes those pitiful sounds, its whole body wriggling and wanting to attack, but it stays near its master: the girl. When I hear low moaning, I look back down at her captor. At a face I’ve never seen before with eyes that don’t deserve to see the light of day. Amazingly, the hit to the head hasn’t fazed him much, and I don’t even see any blood oozing from him. Once again, he focuses his venomous eyes on me. A strange sense of déjà vu comes over me as I grab his throat with both hands and squeeze.

It is going to be him or me. I knew that the moment I saw him coming for the girl. He isn’t going to allow her to be taken away from him, and he isn’t going to be caught.

I make a choice.

I commit to it.

I execute it.

There’s no going back. No second thought. No momentary hesitation.

I squeeze his throat harder as he struggles beneath me, grabbing my hands with his own, kicking his legs up. But he grows weak and I grow strong, and I win.

The girl sobs on the ground behind me, and the dog lets out its pitiful howl, which sends a chill down my spine as years of anguish break free from the cage of my heart. It swirls up inside me like a tornado and unleashes its destruction as I choke him to death.

I witness his last breath, hear his last gurgle, and feel him go lifeless beneath me.

And fuck…it feels good.

I stand and slowly back away from the well-dressed body of the man I just killed. I try to catch my breath, my heart racing from the rush of adrenaline and this sick shock coursing through me like lightning.

I just killed someone with my hands. A total stranger that I had no beef with. He could be anyone—her father, her boyfriend, a kidnapper. I have no idea, and the fact that I don’t care is both surprising and concerning. Regardless, he tried to hurt me and I stopped him, and it’s given me a euphoric high that hasn’t subsided yet.

I flex my sore fingers, continuing to eye him to make sure he doesn’t get up.

The sound of scurrying behind me forces me to tear my gaze off the body to find the girl running farther into the woods after the dog, who has suddenly bolted.

“Get him!” the girl yells.

I take off after them, afraid they’re both going to get themselves lost out here in the woods. The girl’s bare feet must be getting torn to shreds as she runs over rocks and dried dead leaves, but it doesn’t stop her from chasing after the small white dog.

“Stop chasing him,” I yell, but I’m not sure she hears me or can make out my hoarse, choppy words. Chasing a running dog only makes it run more. If she would stop chasing him and just sit and wait, he’d most likely stop and come back to look for her.