Little Lila

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It was dark and cold on the streets of New York City. Lila hastened her footsteps and wrapped her Burberry coat tighter around her small frame. She held her Prada bag in a vice-like grip, eyes darting about, scanning for anything out of the ordinary.

She rummaged through her purse for her pepper spray, a precaution she always took when nearing the darker streets and alleyways. Suddenly, her grip slipped and her pepper spray cluttered to the ground.

Swearing, Lila bent down to retrieve the small bottle. Only to jump back in fright at the sight of a big, burly man standing a few feet in front of her, who wasn't there before.

Holding the pepper spray out, Lila shouted, "Whoever the f*ck you are, I suggest you back off!"

A deep, throaty chuckle was heard, before the man lunged forward. Screaming, Lila pressed down on the nozzle of the pepper spray.

Though the man grunted, the pepper spray did nothing to deter him.

Dropping her last line of defense, Lila ran with everything she had.

Suddenly, something grappled at her feet, pulling her down to the ground.

With one last scream, her head hit the ground, and Lila plunged into darkness.

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