My body remembered things my mind had tried to forget for ten years in the soil.

I saw the tension in their shoulders.

I saw the way they held their weapons, too relaxed, expecting an easy eviction.

They thought they were dealing with a tired, elderly gardener.

Ryan grinned, stepping down one step of the porch.

He raised the bat again, pointing the metal tip at my chest.

“This is going to hurt,” Ryan said.

“And nobody is going to hear you scream.”

The first guard on the left reached for my shoulder.

His hand was open, intending to grab my collar and drag me down the stairs.

I did not move yet.

I waited for the exact moment of contact.

In my mind, the world slowed down to a crawl.

The raindrops seemed to hang in the air like tiny glass beads under the porch light.

I saw the guard’s fingers twitch.

I saw the second guard raising his taser.

I saw the smug satisfaction on Charles Whitmore’s face.

And then, from high above us, a window pane rattled in the wind.