Abigail
The hand over my mouth reeked of cigarettes. I bit down hard, drove my elbow back into the man behind me and when his grip loosened, I spun around and sent my knee straight up between his legs.
"Fuck!" He doubled over, one hand shooting to the wall to stop himself from dropping to the ground.
I yanked off my heels quickly, holding the pointed ends aimed directly at his face. "Who the hell are you?"
"Wait," He wheezed, still clutching his balls. "I'm on your side, dammit,"
He straightened slowly, one hand still pressed to his lower abdomen, his face creased with pain. "Put the shoe down."
Like hell I would. I kept it up, tightening my grip around them.
He was older, in his late fifties, maybe with grey hair at the temples. There were deep lines around his eyes, looking like he hadn't slept in days.
His yellow flannel shirt rumpled with each movement he made. His blue eyes moved to the window, back to me, then to the window again.
