She came at me with that eight inch blade that nicked my second rib and tore my best Savers shirt. Havent moved that fast since shoplifting at sixteen, I might add. She backed away stepping on a VB can that rolled under her boot. Down she went in a flood of abuse and alcohol, flailing at the vinyl and anything else worth scarring.
No pain for me yet. Not sure whether to check for damage, I bound through the toilet door.
What the fuck was she doing in there, I ask ?
I could hear her screaming and thrashing about behind the door , as the band struck its first power chord. Shit that was close.
dark nights in pubs and even darker mens toilets.