"Jasmine Shea, you once said that when you grew up, you would buy a house in Sudenford, raise a pet cat, and cover the balcony in jasmines," said Myles Pereira.He stood under a street lamp with a broken steel pipe in his hand. He was wearing a gray hoodie, and there was an angry red scratch left by a fingernail on his face.In the alley behind him, I could see a figure running in the opposite direction, splashing noisily through water puddles.I was crouched in a corner, weak at the knees. The strap of my backpack was sliding off my shoulder.Three minutes ago, someone started stalking me from the convenience store and followed me down two whole streets. When I noticed them, I started running but tripped over a trash can after running into this alley.Just as that person grabbed onto my bag strap, Myles rushed out and struck them in the forearm with a steel pipe. The stranger had let out a scream before turning and running.Now, Myles was crouched in front of me. He placed the s
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