He got an arm around my neck, choking off my air supply. He pulled one arm behind my back, twisted and torqued, forcing me to turn sideways to relieve the pain. I swung my free arm, but the awkward angle meant even the blows that connected were too weak to inflict anything other than an itch. And with every passing second, my lungs screamed louder and my vision closed tighter and my brain grew lighter. Then he let go, shoved with his hands, stuck a foot out in front of me. My face hit the ground before I managed to break my fall. The concrete grated against my right cheek. The ground stunk like old grease and trash. The wind blew cigarette butts toward me. Why had he released me? He couldn’t control what I did now. There would be a fight. I rolled over, expecting to see three to five armed men staring back at me. To my surprise, one guy stood there. And he was unarmed. “Alik? The hell you doing?” “What am I doing? I should be asking you the same. What were you thinking going out after what happened today?”
