The sword was naked in my hand at this point. No true help against guns, but it might make them hesitate. I didn’t want to kill anyone, but sadly it was as much because I didn’t want to be arrested for murder than out of any real concern for the lives of people who wouldn’t leave me alone.
“Whoah!” The person bursting through the door lifted his hands.
I lowered the blade. “What. Didn’t know anyone was in here?”
“No!” There were three of them. “We were looking for…”
“Somewhere to shoot up.” It was in their faces, their eyes, their jittery manner. “You can’t do it here. Go.”
I wouldn’t turn them in. Drug use struck me as very much its own punishment. Pushing it to kids, trying to get people addicted, those were crimes. These guys? Just victims.
And they fled, but then it occurred to me. They could tell somebody where I was…but what could I do about it? The only way to prevent it was killing them. I decided, for now, to rely on the fact that people would not be likely to believe three junkies…they would probably even think they’d hallucinated me themselves.
How fast had I drawn the sword? Faster than I liked to think, but I sheathed it again now. I wanted out of here, now, to be out on the streets, not hiding. If I left, though, the next bunch of junkies could steal my stuff.
Instead, thus, I went and tried to fix the door. Which fortunately wasn’t that hard. They’d damaged the hinges, not the lock, and there was a tool kit around here somewhere. Yes, there it was. I’d have it fixed before Thea came back.
But I couldn’t stay here. I was on edge, I wanted, almost needed a fight. Not just a sparring session. A real, honest to goodness fight. I was too young to go find a dive bar…that would be Thea’s suggestion otherwise.
She enjoyed fighting. That much was obvious. That was what drew me to her more than anything else. That open enjoyment of violence. It should scare me. Somehow, it didn’t. Yet.