A Perfect Cover. Maureen Tan

my head, lifting my upper body out of the gutter. I felt the rushing water tugging at the ends of my hair.

      My captor was standing so that I couldn’t reach him. But I fought anyway, trying to free my wrists from his unyielding grip. I bucked, kicked, twisted wildly, screamed at the top of my lungs. All the while, the man in the black mask remained on the sidewalk, his hands shoved deep into raincoat pockets, watching me struggle.