It hits her, like a train on a track.

Eliza can’t breathe. She freezes, heaving and paralyzed. It’s coming towards her. This cannot be true; not in her wildest, unbecoming dream could this possibly be true. Pressure builds on her chest, squeezing all the air out of her lungs. She loses vision, she’s stuck. She has to escape.

Her legs seem to register that well before her head does. They begin to walk, to run, then to bolt, taking her around the corner without turning back. Just a few more blocks. The brick houses and stop signs fly past her. She will leave no chance for the aggressor to lay a finger on her, not after all the deceits from which she had to see through, nor all the wreckage from which she had to dig through. No, she has grown wiser. She can make it, return to her house, her room, and hide under her bed, where she can lock herself up in a formidable gloom. No more smoke can sting her eyes and no more rugs to be pulled under her feet. She would have been a friendly neighbor and kissed Ms. Marley goodbye if not for her survival instinct that took hold of her. She flees till she sees the familiar window pane, leaps every other step, and then bursts open the door.

Inside, it is burning hot. Liquid starts oozing out from her skin now that she halts. A disgusting sweetness spreads on her tongue. A terrifying thought pops. She’s poisoned. The air was lethal. She flurries to the kitchen sink, empties the dish soap, and then chucks a handful of water mixed with it. It has to be out of her system, every bit has to be left behind. She washes her mouth until her teeth ache, and the bubbles practically explode from between her lips. Her tears run like rivers down her face and through the drain.

“Please, please stop. Don’t touch me.”

Eliza nearly collapses, limping and weighing herself against the marble table. Has she succeeded? Did she outrun it?

And then happiness hits her again like a bullet from the back.