I regretted pulling myself right back up.

“Careful. Is it your ankle?”

I hissed and glared at him. He glared back. There was a subtle golden glow in his eyes. It vanished too fast for me to tell if I saw things again. The last thing I needed was for my madness to kick in. Everything happening within the last hour was enough to scare me off—I wouldn’t want to scare some stranger, leave me here with no strength to pull myself off him. His chest was sturdier than a rock. This guy worked out. Maybe he drinks protein shakes for breakfast like Michael. What was I thinking? Ray, stop it. I wanted to slap myself. Best not to. It would weird anyone out.

“This is your fault. My ass hurts like millions of bees stung it. I’m pretty sure I broke my ankle when you destroyed the ceiling, and you want me to believe this was all to save my ass?”

I didn’t know when I stopped breathing, why he suddenly frowned instead of scowling at me by blaring at him over everything. This stranger clearly saved me from being mauled by a crazed neighbor who might be on crack, had one too many cosmos, and ate three-course meals of children a day—children a la tartar.

“Sorry, I-I… this makes no sense. You, Mrs. Hatchet—going exorcist two-point-o—and this… card.”

He nodded, and I could almost see a nostalgic look on his face as he gazed over the rubble. I opened my hand to show him the card. It had by this point turned into trash, scrunched up from all the excitement. I observed; to see whether he was upset. He rolled his shoulders back, his eyes even, and took it. I didn’t get a good look at it, but I’m pretty sure it had a Roman number on top, don’t know which, though. There was a The Star on top with the name I had called out earlier on the bottom. A sketch of a woman dressed in blue, coupled with little white dots, and a cat or bird? No. Maybe it was a lion. His throat rumbled softly, and shifted his weight up; his gash had pieces of dirt and concrete-rubble and drying dribbled bits.

“Hey, you’re still bleeding. You shouldn’t be getting up—”

I held onto his shoulder tightly. Whatever strength he had, the man heaved himself up. The wood splintered and cracked under his scratched-up shoes. I wouldn’t be surprised if the back part were pricked full of splinters or his suit was torn—the threads sticking out in different places and lengths. This was going to be hell to fix. Best to get a new one.

“Ah!” I yelped.

Looking down at my ankle—it wasn’t only stuck—it had something stuck inside it. I sputtered and hissed to cover my scream. Was I sure I didn’t tear the bone off?

“It’s ok. I’m going to pull your foot out.”

I shook my head at him. Oh, hell, no!

“It’s going to be fine.”

No, it wasn’t—this was going to hurt like a b—

“Mother! Sandwich! Brenda!”

I had no idea who Brenda was, but it was the only name that struck me, and I was hungry.

“Don’t look at it. Look at me.”

My mouth tasted of copper, teeth grinding to hold down the pain.

“Look at me. It’s ok. Bite on my shoulder.”

He kept repeating to me under a pool of softness in his voice. It dripped, clouded my mind. His scabbed thumb smoothly touched my face. A rush of heat went up to my cheeks. We fixed onto each other. I wasn’t ready, yet I was until he pulled my ankle right out. I bit his shoulder tighter, tighter. His mouth didn’t tick; his brows didn’t even twitch. A heavy piece of concrete fell off my foot. The entire converse was soaked red. I didn’t want to cry. Could anyone blame me if I did? My eyes burned. Yep, the dam broke. At least it wasn’t like one of those movies in Hollywood, where the female lead cried under a damn spotlight and threw things, only to continue her crying all over again. Nope. I whimpered, muffled a moan. My teeth crunched part of his big shoulders.

“There, it’s over.”

Was it, though? I exhaled a long, exhausting puff and limped on him. Sleep, I need to sleep. My eyes were getting tired. I was about to drop dead on this mess without a care in the world. Was it sanitary? Nope. Was it safe? Probably not.

“Hey. Don’t fall asleep. We need to keep moving. She’s close.”

My head moved so fast I might have gotten whiplash in the process.

“I thought we gave her the slip. Wait. How close are we talking about?”

“Don’t worry.” I scuffed at this. Worry, me? “My guar… friends will be here shortly.”

His mouth twitched. Friends huh? He was going to say something strange, wasn’t he? I knew it. Never trust a man in a suit. It might look good on his body, practically shaped and tailored for him. I narrowed my eyes up at him. He blinked back. His hand stretched upon my head. What was he doing? Oh. His fingers combed through my mottled curls. It shot my insides, bringing me to my full height. This warmth. This touch. It tickled my memory from somewhere. I squinted and leaned closer to his face—a flash of a smile and a man’s shadowed face shuttered inside my head. I took a step back, the four corner walls of the cage; I walked into a tunnel, the swinging light at the end had brought me hope; it shifted into a man, this man. Was it this man? He squinted at me funny and dropped his fingers from my head. The warmth was gone. It couldn’t be him. This was a dream, right? After everything today, I never thought it would be possible. It could be him. His beaded jewels sucked me dry. My legs brought me over to him. I rubbed the ticking pocket watch. Warm, getting warmer, hot, very hot. I was about to pull out my hand, and he was about to pull out his.

“Ray, I—”