I open my eyes. Luis is crouched over top of me, the buttons of his shirt undone, his long hair loose and disheveled as though he's been running frustrated fingers through it. I briefly catch the edge of concern in his dark gaze, but my body reacts, almost independently of thought. He's kneeling next to me, his hands on my flesh, the memory of his dream monster still fresh.
I shove his chest, pushing him back. He's off balance for a split second which allows me to lunge to the side. I bring the jug down on the concrete, smashing it. I grip a broken shard and swing it around toward him. He shifts backward and reaches for his gun. His eyes are alight with fury and something else. Maybe anticipation. Or perhaps expectation. I don't know and I don't have time to think about it. I hurl myself
