“No.” Tyler’s voice has an edge thistime.
Something silver flashes again, and Tyler moves, every bit as fast at the otherguy.
“The fuck you doing?!” the other guy shouts as Tylerlunges.
They’re on the ground, and I’m watching in horror as theyroll.
I want to scream, but it’s stuck in my throat. It’s like seeing a car crash. I can’t call 9-1-1; he has myphone.
They roll over and over, and there’s panting and grunting. Then the guy’s out from under Tyler, sprinting down thesidewalk.
A sickening groan pulls meback.
“Tyler!” I drop to the ground next to him. One hand’s still on my necklace, and I force myself to let go in order to roll Tyler onto hisback.
The second I do, there’s blood. The smell of it invades my nose, and I fight nausea as I search wildly for the source of it in the dark, patting his chest through his black dress shirt, rumpled and dusty from thefight.
“Tyler, oh my God. Saysomething.”
His lips are parted, and the only thing that escapes is a grunt ofpain.
Relief edges in as I shove Tyler’s sweat-damp hair off his face, searching his half-liddedgaze.
I feel dampness around my knees, and my chin jerksdown.
There’s a bloom of red pooling at my leg near Tyler’s side, and the moment I realize what’s happened, the knot in my throatloosens.
Now, Iscream.
* * *