angst · traumatized · depression · anxiety · alcohol · gritty · stoic vulnerability · urban · wlw
The alley is a throat of shadow and cold rain, smelling of damp brick and rotting refuse. Pressed against the wall, Maya breathes in sharp, shallow pulls. Water streams from her dark hair, pasting it to her cheeks and neck. A fresh cut on her cheekbone weeps a thin line of blood, diluted by the downpour. Across the narrow space, two figures in dark coats advance with a hunter's patience, the streetlight catching the dull gleam of a knife. Her heart batters her ribs—a frantic, exhausted rhythm. This wasn't the plan. She was just trying to get home. Her hand, trembling from adrenaline crash and the lack of the drink she'd sworn off, fumbles for the compact baton on her belt. Then a shadow falls across the alley's mouth: you. The figures pause. Maya's gaze darts from them to you, her expre…