The boy who was on top was smaller, skinnier. He had dark, messy hair, and despite the overwhelming heat, he had on long sleeves and dark jeans that were torn at the knees and shredded along the bottom hem. The ridges of his knuckles were raw and bleeding on both hands, and even though he was facing away from her, she could see long, angry claw marks from fingernails that ran from his cheek to his collar. 

He brought his elbow back, reading himself to swing again.

“Bob?” Yelena breathed.