Violence (#13)
I climb to the top landing of the stairwell, and freeze. A dirty man sits there, surrounded by bandages, wrapping his bleeding leg. “I’m going to need you to leave,” I say. “I’m not going anywhere,” he says, standing and puffing up. I click my radio, “I’ve got one hostile.” “You’re a liar!” He says, threateningly. I pull my baton, stepping back into a defensive stance. He crouches down, parroting…