The Broken Man

He snarled and paused a moment, assessing the situation. I finally got a look at his eyes expecting to see mania or a glassy stare. When they met mine they were clear and focused. His smile got wider, bastard English. He pushed himself further onto the tines of the fork, moving slowly, agonizingly up them,. desperately trying to make it those last few inches to reach my throat. Then there was the sound of something tearing, and I think he must rupture something because his legs went out from under him. Where blood had been oozing before it now began to gush. The woman looked at me as if I might have any explanation, but what

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