She saw the shadow first—a thickening of the dark by her window, which she could have sworn she’d locked. The figure was patient. He held a small brown bottle and a folded white handkerchief. He was waiting for her to fall back asleep.
He took the bait. He leaned in, the sweet reek of chloroform wafting ahead of him like a ghastly cologne. He uncorked the bottle, doused the handkerchief, and brought it up to his own nose for a second—a rookie mistake. His eyes watered. He blinked.
She hung up, sat on the edge of the bed, and waited for the sirens. The sweet smell was already fading, replaced by something sharper: ozone, metal, and the cold, clean air of a window she finally got up to slide all the way open. Threat- Chloroform- One woman who was attacked ...
He went down hard. His head cracked against the corner of her dresser.
“No,” she said, her voice flat. “But I am.” She saw the shadow first—a thickening of the
That was the moment.
Maya slid one hand, slow as a glacier, under her pillow. Her fingers brushed the cold steel of the pepper spray her brother had given her after the break-in down the hall last year. Useless against chloroform, she thought. The stuff worked by inhalation. If he got that rag near her face, she had maybe fifteen seconds of struggling before her limbs turned to wet sand. He was waiting for her to fall back asleep
Maya stood in the middle of the room, shaking so violently her teeth chattered. The pepper spray canister was hot in her palm. She didn’t look at the body. She looked at the handkerchief on the floor, still damp, still sweet. Two feet from her pillow.