The man grunted and released her.
Without a pause, she darted up and toward the nearest house, screaming at the top of her lungs.
He recovered quickly and wrapped a hand around her ankle, yanking and knocking her off-balance. As she fell her leg twisted and she landed awkwardly. Pain flashed in her knee, spreading down to her ankle and up to her hip.
He was on his knees, attempting to pull her closer. With her free leg she delivered a well-placed kick to his face, connecting squarely with his nose, and he released her again.
All of a sudden a voice called out, “What’s going on? Is everything okay over there?”
The man paused. His huge body frozen in place as he appeared to weigh his options.
“Call 911,” she yelled to whoever had heard the scuffle and come to her aid.
“I’ll be back,” her attacker said, then darted to a nearby car.
For the first time fear took hold of her, and she sank back against the grass.
If that man hadn’t chosen that moment to come out to see what was happening, the Fairytale Killer would have gotten her into his car. She’d fought him off twice, but he was bigger and stronger, and eventually he would have overpowered her. Adrenalin, training, and instinct had taken hold while she fought for her life, but now that the man was gone it was quickly draining out of her system leaving her shaking, hurting, and scared.
“I called 911, are you okay?” A man suddenly appeared above her.
Struggling into a sitting position, Rylla winced at the pain in her chest. “I'm fine.”
“I think you're bleeding,” the man sounded doubtful.
“Nothing serious.” She hoped. “Do you have a phone I can borrow?” She would never again go running without her phone and her gun.
The man handed over his cell and she called in the attack, giving a brief rundown of what had happened, asked for CSU to come, and told them she’d be at home waiting to give her statement.
“Are you sure you shouldn’t wait here for the ambulance?” the man asked when she handed him back her phone.
“I just live a few streets over,” she assured him as she slowly staggered to her feet. She just wanted to go home.
Still looking doubtful, the man offered no more protests, and Rylla began the walk home. With her injured knee she couldn’t go any faster than a slow limp, and what would normally have taken only a couple of minutes took almost fifteen.
At her back door she hesitated.
Nate was going to freak out when he saw her.
Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and hobbled into her kitchen.
“Where have you be—?” Nate broke off when he caught sight of her. And what a sight she must be. She knew her neck was bleeding, and she was probably dirty and pale as well.
“What happened?” his voice was strained with fear as he grabbed a towel, then her arm and pushed her down into a chair, holding the towel firmly against the cut on her neck.
“It was the Fairytale Killer,” she whispered, meeting Nate’s fearful gaze.
“He tried to attack you? Where else are you hurt?” He pulled his phone out of his pocket.
“I already called it in,” she told him before he could make a call.
With a shaking hand he set the phone down. “Where are you hurt?”
“I'm fine,” she told him.
“Where are you hurt?” he repeated again, his voice shook more than his hands.
There was no point in hiding it, an ambulance was no doubt already on its way here. “My ribs and my knee.”