She didn’t want to face the evil again, whether it came in the form of Freddy Krueger’s bladed glove or the bloody machete of Jason Voorhees. She ...anted to forget and move on, to leave the faces of those dead buried in the past. There were so many of them, and most of them she knew. Most of them she loved. ‘Jesus, what I am doing here?’ she whispered, hugging her arms to her body. Her simple black business suit felt too tight and hot against her. She could feel cool sweat on her forehead. It cracked when it hit the floor. She collapsed onto the dirty linoleum, wrapped up in a fetal ball, curled around her pain. Her bladder let go with an acrid stench. I stepped back, ashamed about what I’d done and trying to get out of the widening puddle. ‘Oh oh oh you killed me, you bastard,’ she sobbed, and I swear she sounded totally sober. I felt like crying, but I forced the feeling away and stepped around her, carefully avoiding her spillage. ‘I’m gonna get you for that,’ she squalled,. More

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