Moving On
Startled, the man slapped me.
I picked up the kettle and threw it at him, all while shouting Jason's name in desperation. He once told me that he would always come to me if he heard me calling his name, yet such a miracle did not happen.
The other drunk man came up to help and they swiftly prevented me from resisting.
As despair gripped me, the door swung open again.
I shouted once more, "Jason! Help me! Help me, please!"
The person entering the room was not Jason, but a janitor. She rushed over and pushed the two drunks aside.