1. Mira

1

MIRA

I'm half-naked in the bathroom when the door swings open.

Well, "half" is being a little generous. It was laundry day today and my only bra was in desperate need of a wash, so I had no choice but to go sans-cup-support underneath my sexless, green Bean & Brew polo.

But thanks to my least favorite customer on this plane of existence, the sexless green polo in question is currently soaking in the sink. That's so the smell of the iced caramel macchiato with extra almond milk, extra syrup, and an extra shot of espresso that he spilled all over me doesn't make me gag.

Same goes for my black jeans and my mismatched socks: ruined.

All of which leaves me with only a pair of black lace panties separating me from my birthday suit.

So that's where I am.

Half-naked.

Covered in caramel macchiato.

Door swinging open.

I'm too surprised to even scream. I know without having to think that I'm in trouble.

The floor plan of Bean & Brew coffee shop on 3rd Ave and West Monroe in Phoenix, Arizona is laid out like a big capital T. The long tail contains the counter and the main seating area. From there, you're no more than twelve big steps to exits at the front and back. The customer bathrooms on the right-hand side of the fork also have an exit exactly six paces from either door.

But where I am right now—the mixed-gender, single-occupant employee bathroom attached to the breakroom—the nearest exit is a full eighteen steps away.

Why do I know all of these distances?

Because I've spent the last seven years looking over my shoulder every single second of every single day, wondering when my past is going to catch up with me…

And how bad it's going to hurt when it does.

I saw the man who's currently shadowing the doorway when I first walked into work today. He was hunched in the corner, hoodie pulled low over his face, fidgeting in that uncomfortable, spidey-sense-arousing way that certain kinds of people do. Just vibrating with bad energy.

I steered clear of him, but he didn't move. Not for the first hour of my shift, nor the second, nor the third. He disappeared sometime between hours four and five, which was the first time I breathed easy all day.

Where he went then remains a mystery. But I know where he is now.

Here.

In this tiny, isolated bathroom with me.

And he's locking the door behind him.

The hoodie is still drooping over his forehead, so all I can see is a broken-toothed sneer. His lips are chapped to the point of bleeding and his cheeks are peppered with badly shaven facial hair. His eyes are nothing but two dim lights set in pools of blackness.

"You're pretty," he wheezes. "I've been watching you all day."

I'm doing my best to cover my important bits and remember how spoken speech works. "Y-you can't b-be in here," I finally stammer out. "This is a private bathroom. F-for employees only."

I sound terrified . I mean, I am terrified, so that's appropriate, but I wish it wasn't so damn obvious.

The last time a man backed me into a corner like this, it ended in blood.

His, not mine.

But if this creep has his way, that might change.

"But you're so, so pretty." He advances on me, fidgeting sideways like a crab. "I just wanted to…"

To what—kill me? Assault me? Eat me sauteed over a bed of rice? He lets the end of the sentence go unfinished, which is the most horrifying possible choice, though I'm not sure he even knows it. He's just exuding craziness. Slasher movie levels of Do Not Venture Near This Guy.

But there's nowhere for me to go. He's in between me and the only door.

I breathe and try to draw on my six years of kickboxing lessons, but I can barely recall the difference between a jab and a hook right now. My fists ball up anyway and I drop into a crouch.

I may be nearly naked, and this man may have a hundred pounds on me.

But my God, I won't go down without a fight.

As it turns out, I don't have to fight at all. Because just as the creep's hand is reaching out toward me, those pale, bloodied stumps of his fingernails looming closer and closer…

The door bursts inward.

And a whole new threat arrives.