This Is My Timing

“Maybe now you’ll learn to stop pushing me,” he muttered.

Then he stepped back, shut the heavy door, and threw the deadbolt.

Chapter 2 — The Demands of a Tyrant

The cold seeped through my thin sweater, but it was nothing next to the agony radiating from my arm. I found my voice and let out a raw scream that tore through the quiet, affluent street.

Lights came on next door. Within moments my elderly neighbor, Mrs. Patel, hurried across her lawn, a heavy coat thrown over her nightgown.

“Oh, sweet heaven!” she gasped, dropping to her knees on the frozen grass. “Elena! Don’t move, darling. Where does it hurt?”

“My arm,” I sobbed, teeth chattering from shock and cold. “It’s broken. It’s broken.”