"Just a minute!"

Can't even go to the damn bathroom in peace.

The banging on the door continues. It seems like the knob should fly off and the door break from the hinges. The volume sets my teeth to buzzing and makes me squint.


Hike, flush, cursory wash while swearing under my breath and well below the pounding.

I turn the knob and get knocked down as the door swings inward. A child rushes in, maybe six, sweaty and red-faced and huffing and spitting.

What the fuck?

Coming at me and clawing. Something wrong with his eyes. Too dark, too dilated.

"Are you-"

He reaches over to me, still on the floor, and scratches my face. Deep. I scoot back, wipe away some of the blood, too surprised for much else. And still he keeps coming. I get to my feet and grab his shoulders, holding him away. He scratches at my arms and kicks my legs.


At which point the little fucker bites me, right in the muscle of my forearm. My brain flashes to scenes from zombie movies, vampire movies...

Fuck what the fuck is this?!

I react without thinking, thrashing and bringing my fist down on top of his head. His mouth opens and my blood runs over his lips. I pick him up, literally throw him across the room, and run out the bathroom door.

I'm expecting him to run out after me, but he doesn't. I'm expecting someone to come investigate, but they don't. There's silence behind me; laughter and glasses in the restaurant ahead.

I think he might be dead. There's blood all over me and I think I may have just killed a first grader with my hands. I think I may have thrown him into the subway tiles and pushed fragments of his skull deep into the cavity. I think he might be dead and I'm standing at the back of a casual family dining restaurant with blood all over me.

The emergency exit doesn't trigger any alarm I can hear.

Don't act like you wouldn't run,too.


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