text: Let me know what you think. A friend suggested I should write more chapters on this. \ I feel the fine hair on my arms stand on end as I gaze out at the dark parking lot outside of the bar where I work. It’s three am and we’re finally closing up. The night wasn’t particularly rowdy, but I’d come to think of something one of the regulars said the other week. You ever get the feeling, like you’re in a movie or in The Sims or something, and you just know that something’s going to happen eventually? Like there’s actual foreshadowing in your real, physical life? The guy had just said that he wanted me to *stay safe since I usually lock up and it’s kind of isolated here*. He’d just looked out into the dusk, after popping in for a pint after work, and said that. I don’t know. It didn’t stick at the time, but my mind wandered and - you know? And now, my skin is tingling for no reason. I’m probably just working myself up, but the wooden bar seems colder than usual, like it’s been bleached and now has a grey tint to it. I put the last of the cups to dry, make sure that the back door is locked, and hear a creak from the one creaky floor board in the front room. I think I hear someone curse under their breath, but it could just be the ventilation that just kicked on. My stomach sinks and I immediately become aware that the fire extinguisher is exactly twelve feet away, so my best bet is to unlock the door and safety lock on the backdoor and make a run for it. Not like a fire extinguisher is a great weapon anyways. At least mom and dad always told me to run if I heard or saw something out of place. Take no chances, just go. You can replace things, but you can’t be replaced. The adrenaline causes me to fumble with the keys and suddenly, every hair on the back of my body stand straight out, like a dog raising its hackles. I turn around and wince involuntarily when I see a man standing there. My brain starts working, feverish, desperately trying to remember if I have seen him before. My blood and muscles scream that he shouldn’t be where he is, and by the look on his face, I’d rather be anywhere else. Then, I see the handcuffs. My eyes well up involuntarily, and I hear the keys hit the floor before I even realize that I have dropped them. The man has this sick smile on his face, like he’s not too drunk to remember this tomorrow, but just drunk enough that he’s willing to explore That One Fantasy and he’s definitely strong enough to overpower me. He takes a step and I hear myself whimper, and I instinctively try to back away only to find myself planted against the back door. Sensing triumph, he tilts his head to the side, popping his neck, and rolls his shoulders. I hear the chain on the handcuffs jingle. How does a person even have real handcuffs? “Please don’t touch me.” The pathetic sentence escapes me, almost lacking my consent, little more than a whisper. I shiver with shame. Really? That’s my plan? Beg for mercy? I’m not going to find my hidden Kung Fu talents and smash him to a pulp? Why can’t I get a superpower like everyone else? My heart steps up the pounding a notch. It sounds like a spring flood in my ears. He still hasn’t said anything. He’s just got that same deranged grin, like he can’t believe his luck. We can hear cars passing by on the busy road a hundred yards away, zipping by. At least, I could have if I could hear anything past my own pulse. I taste salt. I’m crying like a helpless child, and he’s walked closer. He’s only a foot away and he towers over me. I squeeze my eyes closed, not that I know how that will help. I sob a single sob as he leans in slowly, savoring the moment, and sniffs my neck. He moans his appreciation into my ear. Disgust fills me like a glass full of bile at my inability to protect myself, and I feel his finger touch my wrist. Suddenly, I feel nothing. Not in the way where you are emotionally numb, but I literally feel nothing; not the air around me, not the man’s presence, not my own skin. I realize that the world around me, even through my eye lids, has gotten dark. I open my eyes to find that I am outdoors, on the other side of the door. The locked door. I am sitting on the asphalt outside the bar, dumbfounded, too surprised to feel any relief. Then, I hear loud swearing from the other side of the door, a very faint jingle, and the clicking of the locks as he undoes them, securing his passage to his desired prey. The surprise causes my body to phase back into solid, normal-human-being form. The wind on my skin is cool, not cold, and I am still stumped at being outdoors, so it takes a second before I realize that I need to run. *He’s about to open the door. Run, and run fast.* I stumble to my feet and turn towards the road right as I hear the door open. I run as fast as I can, propelled by some primitive instinct, but I hear him gaining on me. I’m almost to the road when I feel the air pressure shift and know he’s going to grab me. I shout, “I said don’t touch me!” and feel my body phase out again into nothingness. He misses a step, expecting to catch me, and has ended up with his upper body out in the road before he can stop. A semi, unable to dodge, clips his head at 70mph, disintegrating it in a mist of bone and blood. I am safe. I haven’t told anyone except the police what happened. Everyone thinks it’s cool that I can phase out and keep pestering me to tell them how my so-called superpower triggered. I wish I felt the same way.