Another sound. The atmosphere changed. Somebody was in her apartment and she reacted instantly, turning and rushing toward the front door. Her heart sped up and panic nearly tripped her. Hard arms tackled her from behind, propelling them both into the solid metal of the door. Her forehead hit and stars blew up behind her eyes. Crying out, she went down, instinctively pulling up her right knee toward her chest to balance herself and not go flat beneath the attacker.

From behind, he reached around her head and roughly shoved a rag against her nose and mouth.

She yelled for help, her movements faltering as blood thundered loudly in her ears. There was no time to think. She plunged her elbow back into his gut and twisted her head away, sucking in clean air and using her knee as a fulcrum to toss him to the side. He grunted, going over and pulling her with him, his hands rough on her arms.

Her temple hit the side of her entryway table and she fell flat onto her back. Pain lanced down her entire body and her muscles started to freeze. He took advantage and pulled her away from the door, levering himself up and straddling her. He wore all black, including a face mask that covered his entire head. Gloves shielded his large hands and he scrambled for the rag that had fallen on the carpet.

Training kicked in and her mind went blank. Her temples throbbed and her vision blurred, but she pushed the pain away for now. She lifted her knees and planted her feet on the ground, her head ringing. Tears filled her eyes and she blinked them away. He was over six feet tall and probably around one-eighty. The eyes looked like a fake shade of brown, and they were blank. He found the rag and punched her shoulder, holding her to the ground. Then he brought the rag toward her mouth.

She pressed down with her heels and lifted her torso, twisting to the side and grunting loudly. He tottered on top of her and she reared up, punching him square in the eye in a rapid set of hits that had him howling and trying to avoid her fist. Grunting, sobbing, she scooted her butt back and tried to get out from under him, punching down toward his groin as fast and as hard as she could.

Her back hit the door and she screamed, high and loud.

Surely someone would hear her.

He swore and jumped to his feet, kicking her in the thigh.

Agony ripped up to her hip, but she shoved the table at him. He jumped back and she surged to her feet, dropping into a fighting stance. He rushed her, and she side-kicked his knee, eliciting a pain-filled grunt. He pivoted in a decent move and didn’t go down.

“Nari? Are you okay?” called Mrs. Flannagan, her neighbor, from the front porch area.