Lisa
Roseanne's figure is little more than a silhouette as she runs up the hill toward an old black house, the steep peaks of the roof jutting toward the moon like javelins. Wedges of yellow light spill from the windows, down the steep garden and the path that cuts through it, giving me just enough illumination to spot my quarry.
My grin is feral as I eat the distance between us.
I run full-force into Roseanne and take her out in a rugby tackle. We twist in the air so I suffer the brunt of the hit. Grass and gravel grind into my forearms as I slide to a halt and roll us over to pin her beneath me.
Roseanne's heavy breaths flood my senses with ginger and vanilla. She blows a lock of hair from her eyes and glares at me before she squirms beneath my weight. "Get the fuck off. He's mine ."
"No can do, Peaches."
"Call me that again and I swear to God I'll chop your balls off."
"Whatever you say, Blackbird." I grin and give her a swift kiss on her cheek, the feel of her soft and yielding flesh branded into memory the moment my lips touch her skin. "See ya."
I push away and run, the delicious sound of her frustrated protest the most beautiful melody behind me.
My heart thunders and my legs burn as I sprint up the steep hill. I'm nearly at the low, wrought iron fence surrounding the house when the sound of an engine cuts through the night.
Francis is running.
I detour and follow the line of the fence toward the driveway where light tumbles down the asphalt from the vehicle in the garage. I reach the edge of the pavement and scoop up a rock from the border just as the garage door slides open and the car barrels out of the building.
So I do what any sane person would do.
I jump on the fucking hood.
Roseanne yells my name. Tires screech. I lock eyes with the driver as his panic collides with my determination.
With my body flat against the hood, I grip the edge of it with one hand and smash my rock into the windshield with the other. I don't stop, not as we pick up speed, not even when the car swerves as the driver attempts to dislodge me. I deliver hit after hit. Glass crumbles with my repeated blows. It bites into my knuckles. It slides into my skin when I punch through to the other side and drop the rock to reach for the steering wheel.
A panicked cry rises above the chaos.
"Lisa, tree!"
I pull my arm free of the windshield and let go of the hood to slide off the vehicle and land hard on my side. My grunt of pain is swallowed by a symphony of metal as the front bumper folds around an oak.
I'm on my feet in an instant. Heavy breaths tear from my chest. Rage descends like a red curtain as I watch the slow, labored movement of the disoriented driver within the smoking hunk of metal.
"Jesus Fucking Christ, Lisa, are you-"
Roseanne's concern is cut short as I wheel on her to snatch her throat in my sticky hand. I crowd her space, push her backward with every step as alarm and defiance churn in her eyes. She grips my arm with both hands but doesn't try to fight me as I force her away from the car. Only when she's off the driveway and shielded by the deep shadows of a tree do I stop. But I don't let her go.
