“You dumb nigger motherfucker. You . . .”

She swiped at his face with the scalpel, slicing his cheek open, his blood beginning to pour out and join Anna’s on the floor.

And then it happened.

In one quick motion, he wrapped his huge hands around her small throat and broke her neck.

As her body went limp, he took the scalpel from her and stabbed her several times in the heart, then slit her throat.

Her head fell to the side unnaturally, and as he let her go, she crumpled to the floor.

Spinning around, he started to rush me.

Just before he reached me, I snapped out a hard right jab square on his nose. It stunned him, and blood started pouring out of it.

Staggering back a step or two, he righted himself and came again.

This time ducking his head down and tackling me. As he did, the scalpel clanged on the floor a few feet away.

Still sore and aching, my entire body screamed with pain as I hit the floor.

Get to Anna. Hurry. You’ve got to hurry.

On top of me now, he began to flail at me wildly, hitting my left eye and chin and shoulder and arm.

I brought my midsection up, rocked forward, then back, and bucked him off. Jumping to my feet, I began to rush over to Anna’s bed, once white, now crimson.

Climbing to his feet, Jones had the scalpel in his hand again.

“Think what I gonna do to her after I gut you,” he hissed.

I braced for his attack but it never came.

About halfway to me, his feet flew out from underneath and he hit the floor hard. He had slipped on all the blood—Anna’s, his, Sandy’s.

As he attempted to find purchase in the slippery fluid, Merrill rushed in the room, an officer’s baton in his hand.

I ran over to Anna as Merrill went toward Jones.

Jones reached his feet, his eyes wild and wide, and ran at Merrill.

Scalpel extended, rabid expression on his face, Jones hurled himself toward Merrill.

At first it looked as if Merrill wasn’t doing anything or had waited too late to defend himself, but just as Jones was on him, he brought the baton up into his chin then down on his falling head.

The blows were fast and furious and Jones stopped dead, but didn’t go down.

Merrill lifted the baton again and brought it back down across the left side of his face.

His whole head jerked back and blood and teeth spewed out as he collapsed to the floor.

“Anna’s cut,” I said. “Bleeding out. We’ve got to get her to a hospital.”

“We in a hospital. I’ll grab some help.”

He dashed out of the room.

I pressed the wound on Anna’s neck, feeling for a pulse as I did.