Barely a few feet from the edge of her bed, Mia assessed the shadowy figure. Dressed entirely in black, a hood over his head, a mask around his mouth. No medical official would be dressed in such garb.
Then Mia saw one of his hands extended further than the other. Something long and silvery.
Mia clenched her fists, willing the man to come closer still.
One more step.
The figure raised one arm into the air.
Mia lunged from her bed, bringing the bedsheet with her as she rammed the man’s mid-section. They smashed into a cabinet, bottles and syringes raining down from above. The figure swung his knife around in the darkness, but Mia gripped his wrist, dug her nails into his flesh and released the blade from his grip. She kicked the knife out of reach, but a sudden searing pain in her stomach sent her briefly numb.
The intruder rushed Mia’s legs, knocking her to the ground in graceless heap. He mounted her, hands around her throat. Mia scrambled for anything that could double as a weapon, finding a small, packeted needle that nurses attached to syringes. She pulled down the plastic with one hand, pierced the wrapping, then jabbed the needle into her attacker’s neck.
“Agh, fuck,” the man shouted as he toppled off her. He took giant panicked breaths. “I’ll kill you, you bitch.”
That voice. She knew it.
But she wasn’t certain.
Mia was back on her feet. The man lay on his knees. There was no time for anything fancy. No time for FBI-approved tactics. Mia launched her bare foot into the man’s face, shattering any joint unlucky enough to be on the receiving end. She jumped on top of him, pinning him down against the cold floor.
Then the door burst open.
Lights on.
“What the hell?” the cop shouted as he drew his gun. “Don’t move.”
Mia let go of her attacker’s wrists then put some distance between her and the intruder.
“Take that mask off,” she shouted.
She controlled her breathing, ignoring the throbbing in her wound. She glanced at it, seeing fresh blood dripping down her gown. This guy must have popped some of her stitches.
“Do it. Get up. Hands on the bed,” the cop said.
The intruder complied, limping, clasping his neck. The cop motioned with his gun for Mia to check him out.
She approached, pulled his hood down.
Please be him.
Then the mask.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Mia despaired.