The commotion on the street is bringing people out onto their porches. “Someone please call 911!” I plead.
I take off running again. Donna, her face twisted in rage, is brandishing the bloody knife in my direction as she takes off behind me.
In the distance I hear sirens and relief floods through me. Please let them be coming here!
I glance back and notice she isn’t far behind me now. I have to keep her running long enough for the police to get here.
I never see the foot that trips me and sends me head over heels.
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