Faster We Burn

but he didn’t move closer to me. My hand brushed the Ziploc bag of Dad’s ashes before I withdrew it.
    “I just…shit, I practiced this.”
    I crossed my arms, tucking the pepper spray against my palm so he couldn’t see it.
    “Zack, you had your chances to say everything. I just want you to leave me alone.” I tried to be stern, but my voice shook a little.
    “I know, I know.” He took a step closer, and I took one back.
    “I just wanted to tell you that,” he took a deep breath and looked up at me, his eyes clear. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry, and that I’m getting help. I just wanted you to know that.”
    Part of me wanted to tell him that was great, but another, larger part wanted to tell him that it was too little, too late. He’d broken anything we had together beyond repair. The only hope I could have for him now was that he wouldn’t do it to any other girls. That was the only hope I could ever have for him anymore.
    “Good. Now you can leave me alone,” I said.
    “But…” He sort of reached toward me, but didn’t step closer.
    I put one hand up to stop him. “Look, you came to say what you needed to say. I’m going to go in the building right now and the next time you see me, it will be in court. Bye, Zack.” He was standing between me and the building, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me. He was never going to stand between me and anything else. Ever.
    I started walking and was about to reach for the front door when he planted himself in front of me.
    “But you’re not hearing me, babe. I really need you to hear me. What did you do to your hair? And why are you wearing your glasses?” There it was. That word, and the desperation in his eyes. He reached for me, and that was it.
    I simultaneously sprayed him and kneed him in the groin.
    He screamed and dropped to the ground, and I went for the door as fast as I could, yanking it open and running for the stairs. It was unlikely he was going to follow me, but I wasn’t going to take any chances. My hands shook as I unlocked my door and went for my phone, which was exactly where I thought it would be.
    I gave the operator the details as I pushed several boxes of books she’d been packing up in front of the door and sat on them, heart pounding.
    The operator told me that the cops were on their way, so I called Stryker.
    “I thought you were going straight there and back. What’s taking so long?” He tried to make his tone joking, but I could hear the worried edge in it. We didn’t have twindar, but Stryker always seemed to worry about me when I wasn’t with him. Maybe because of all the death that had been around us lately.
    “Zack’s here. I’m okay, though. He tried to touch me, but I pepper sprayed him and kicked him and now I’m in my room with the door locked. I called the cops and they’re on their way. So I’m fine, really.” My voice sounded like it didn’t belong to me.
    Stryker let forth a string of curses and I heard a commotion in the background.
    “I’m coming to get you. Hold on. Just stay on the phone with me.” He put his hand over the phone and I heard muffled talking. They were probably all coming to my rescue now. I listened to them with one ear and trained the other on the hallway. I’d told the cops which room I was in so they could find me.
    “Are you still there?” Stryker said as I heard more chatter and car doors slamming.
    “I’m here.” Sort of.
    Tires squealed. “Just stay with me, sweetheart. I will never let him hurt you.”
    “I know.”
    He said a bunch of other things, but I didn’t hear most of them. I felt floaty, like a balloon that was only lightly tethered to the ground.
    I waited and waited and waited.
    Finally, voices sounded down the hall. Adult voices. Police voices. Then there was a banging on my door, followed but a flutter of other voices that I recognized.
    “Katie?! Are you okay?” Stryker said, trying to open the locked door. Ah, that question that never had an answer. “Just tell me if you’re in there, sweetheart.”
    “I’m here,” I said, getting off the boxes and pushing them out of the way. I opened the door and was met by quite a group. Three cops and five friends.
    “Oh, Katie,” Stryker said, reaching out for me. I shook my head.
    “I’m okay. I just…” I looked at all of them. “I want to fucking kill him, the bastard.” My weird floaty feeling was gone, replaced with something that burned hotter and