“IDIOT” my mind screamed in the nano-second between trying to shoot her and the way she drove me against the wall. My eyes locked onto the glinting steel just inches from my face, she had opportunity to plunge the knife into my eye…but when she hesitated I looked back at her with a question in my stare. As we slammed to the floor my hands gripped at her arms, desperate to try to keep the hideous looking knife away from me. Our strength seemed well matched but the wound in my leg put me in the disadvantage…that and the fact the scared woman had the knife of course. She backed off a little and I lunged forward with my knee, pushing her from me.

Still I had made no noise, no curse, no grunting or screaming in effort. I got to my feet and my eyes went wide as I saw a single spare bolt within grasp…I scooped it up and leapt towards my cross-bow…she was close behind me so I had not opportunity to aim. I just slammed the bolt into place and swung the bow around and fired. The bolt leapt away and sliced a line along her abdomen. She paused, her eyes wild and staring at me in outraged shock. She threw herself at me just as I ran off at an angle, her body clipped mine and sent me sprawling. I slammed into the glass strewn floor. The wind had blown the heavy rain into the destroyed window and had made the floor around it slippery. I felt my body skidding…sliding towards the cavernous hole out into the wild London weather.

I spread my legs and awkwardly stopped myself from sliding out the third floor window and onto my death far below on the flooded street. Suddenly someone grasped my pony tail and pulled me viciously back away from the window, I turned my head and saw the woman staring back at me…was that a smile on her face…I was exhausted. The emotional and physical strength I had spent in the fight before she had turned up was taking its toll. I tried to flip and wrench free of her grip but she held me firm and brought her foot round hard. Kicking me in the side with a vicious power that drove the air from my lungs. She did it again…perhaps angered by the lack of vocal response I made. It wouldn’t be the first time someone beat me harder because I refused to scream and beg for mercy. It wasn’t because I wasn’t in pain or inwardly pleading for them to stop. I just couldn’t do it out loud.

She pulled me into the centre of the room and squatted next to me, her eyes staring down into mine and through my hard breathing; desperately trying to bring air into my lungs…I felt the power in that stare. Something deep within me stirred and I blinked…who was this woman…and why hadn’t she pushed me out the window…what did she want with me?