“I’ve got everything you need, right here, little lady,” the man calls, and not even a second later, his fingers brush my back.
I gasp, fear clamping down on me and making me trip. My feet tangle in each other, and I tumble forward, hitting the cold, hard floor with a thud. A jolt flies through my body, and I groan.
As the man skids to a stop in front of me, I grab the nearest thing, a can of soup, and throw it. He dodges, and I grab more. One after the other, I throw them, pelting him with the little metal cans until he grunts as one slams into his face.
A crowd soon forms around us, everyone whispering and muttering to each other, and I can’t stand it. Whispering, whispering, whispering. Judging. Muttering. Hating. Every bit of it scrapes at my already raw nerves, and I snap.
“Get
