He'll kill you, Johnny.
The asphalt felt like jagged teeth against the balls of my feet. Clawing, digging, biting at my bare calloused flesh with each hurried footfall. The chill breeze nipped at my skin, goosebumps pouring down my spine. How long do I have? I couldn't see the moon in the sky. Clouds veiled the luminary like shadowy fingers—as if someone jumped me from behind; a bag thrown over my head as they pulled me into the darkness. I could hardly see my own hands in front of my face. How did I get myself into this mess?
The rustling obsidian walls at either side exhaled a devilish howl, the icy wind clinging to my bones. My fingers curled into fists. I was a spring, coiled and taught—ready to tear the throat out of whoever or whatever so much as looked in my direction. But there was no one there; just a man and his thoughts. Impossible, neurotic thoughts that made the Italian silk shirt stick to my back. I tore it off, vague clicks and clacks tic