When Things Go From Bad To Worse
There's a shiny, glinty thing sticking out from the intruder's fingers. He's jabbing it in our direction. Tara clings on to me. Her colour's as white as paper. I feel swamps of sick gurgling around in my gut; a mixture of fear and uncertainty.
'What do you want?' Tara cries.
'Get back, stay back.' The sharp object threatens us. 'Sit down, back to back.'
My legs don't seem to be working. Tara pulls me onto the floor, doing what he says.
I feel her body shaking, or is it mine? I can't tell. I'm numb.
The man bends the knife to the right as he wraps a rope around and around and around us both. He stinks of a canine. The smell hits my stomach and I puke hard on myself. He hits me. Tara screams. Then black.
