#fitz. two

When she stepped out of the café, she told herself it was fine. Yes, it was the first time she was actually walking back to her home from the café ( mind you, it’s a 30 minute walk!! ) this late at night but... It was fine. Ten minutes into the walk, into the shadows of coyote point... every inch of her skin basically yells it’s anything but fine. Head low, hands glued to the strap of her purse, she sets one foot in front of the other and carefully listens to her surroundings until– She stops in her tracks when the man crawls out from the shadows and faces her. Alana’s heart skips a beat and the rest of her body seems to freeze. “It’s pretty late to be out here on your own”. The man says as he walks over. She sees him smile, but there’s nothing friendly about a snake showing its fangs. “Hand over the bag.” He orders this time... and she wants to comply, she wants to give him everything just to be left alone and cry. “Don’t make this hard. The bag” Her muscles don’t seem to be in the mood to listen– stiff, frozen. “I–” She mutters, but the man doesn’t have much patience: a pocket knife comes into view and he swiftly cuts the distance between the two. One second she’s standing in the middle of the sidewalk, the other her body’s pressed against a brick wall, a knife held to her gut and his breath right on her face. “Please, just take it.” He chuckles, Alana can smell the stink of vodka in his throat. He clicks his tongue, “But you’re so pretty. I kinda feel like playing... don’t you?” ( @strlghtz​ )