Carly stiffened from the startle of Tzich’s violent rise. When he grabbed her wrist, her eyes widened, and while she put some distance between them, it didn’t stop him from pulling and then dragging her through her own home.

She could’ve tried and break away, maybe hit him, scream and curse to all the people that weren’t listening, but instead she walked ahead, her steps stinted and slanted in attempt to slow them, but it did nothing. Tzich moved her along and pursued his spiel, all the way until the door.

By then, her amber eyes were big and her eyebrows knitted, her expression conflicted between surprise of the uproar and irritation from being tugged about like a ragdoll. Just as she was about to make a more definitive face toward him, maybe say something, he opened the door and failed. He tried again, beating against the deadbolt, but to no avail.

“Yeah, and your batshit crazy gets in the way of common sense,” she said pointedly. Then, in one quiet motion, she reached up and flipped the lock. Not that she wanted to be wrangled outside by this madman who was budging his way into her life, but she felt a little bad for him. Just a little. 

“You really believe what you’re saying, don’t you?” she muttered edgily. He didn’t seem to by lying, and from the surface there didn’t seem to be much reason. “Look, I’m not leaping at the idea of being the Devil himself’s daughter, but you can’t blame me, can you? As far as I know I’m a normal girl—er, woman. I mean, yeah, I’m kind of a bitch, but aren’t all humans?”