Dina screamed, terrorized by the scene before her: Bill, face down in front of his apartment, a large kitchen knife protruding from under his body; Jenny, white-faced, blood on her hands, splattered on her neck, down her cleavage, her eyes blazing and poring into Dina.
Dina’s cigarette slipped right through her fingers to the floor. The hallway zoomed out like a mile-long tunnel and zoomed back in, hitting her direct in the face. Ceiling shadows menaced her like scampering tarantulas, a sudden itch in her back startled her into turning around, sure that a violent murderer would soon seize her, and Jenny's eyes penetrated right to the bottom of her stomach. It lurched and seized her abdomen; she vomited her dinner. Spinach from the salad she'd eaten only forty minutes ago blew out her nose, landing on the white wall beside her.
"You cheating bitch!" Jenny screamed, flexing her talons, her blonde hair falling into her face, wet-streaked with perspiration falling down her blood-stained face.
Before Dina even stopped vomiting, Jenny was on her, grabbing her long, dark hair, pulling her head back. Dina choked on vomit, struggled, and spit on Jenny's legs. She looked above her, weeping for the impending doom she was so soon to reach.
But then, with her free hands, she clubbed Jenny in the knees, pulled one of her legs in one direction, the other in the opposite. Jenny fell forward on top of her, pulling hair out of Dina's head, falling on top of Bill's back. Dina kicked at Jenny, pulled herself free, and with all her might slammed her fists into Jenny's back. And then the bitter smell of smoke came to Dina’s nostrils …
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