Raw. Unvarnished.

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She forgot everything else and ran. She ran across yards, over flower beds, under swing sets, and through hedges. She ran with a sense of urgency she hadn't felt since the night the grungers had cut her dad to ribbons. She ran at the edge of control, feeling like she might slip and plunge head long against the ground. Her hands grabbed a light pole as she shot out onto the sidewalk at the intersection where the cop would turn onto a bigger, straighter street and get away.
It only took an instant to realize she didn't have any weapons that would be useful against a car. She looked around frantically for anything she could use. There was an old, rusting blue postal drop box nobody had ever gotten around to removing, bolted to the concrete. She put her back to it and slid down into a squat.
Her mind cleared, knowing what she had to do. She focused on the moment and let everything else drift, concentrating on the mental triggers she had burned into her memory. She felt a little click as the adrenaline pump started dumping it's liquid fire into her blood. Within three heartbeats, it hurt, everywhere. Her hands found the bottom of the box and every muscle in her body pulled like they needed to be outside of her skin. Tears ran down past her open mouth as her head shook like a bronze gong. The box moved.
First one leg pulled loose, then another. She kept pulling until the angle was too steep to keep her grip, then stood and rocked it back and forth a few times to break the other two legs free. It was heavier than she thought it would be as she lifted it and stepped off the curb. She realized that people had been putting trash into it for years as she held it up and tried to stay behind the parked cars. The unmarked cop car was just coming down the street, so she hefted the box up and readied herself. She could see through the windows as the car approached that the guy had followed procedure and put the girl in the back seat. That was good.
Silver stood and heaved the box at just the right moment for it to land squarely in the windshield. The cop jammed on the brakes purely out of reflex. Normally, reflexes helped save your life, but this time it was going to cost him. Silver vaulted over the hood, landed by his door, and used one spike to break the safety glass right before the other one stabbed through his neck. The cop was breathing blood, but started fumbling for his gun. Now that she had some control over the movement of his head, she used the free spike to jam through his eye into his brain. He stopped moving.
The girl in the back was starting to shake and her face was twisting into a horrified caricature of itself. Silver retracted the spikes and pushed the man down below the seats, out of view. She felt her face soften. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She held her hand over the seat. "Please."


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People don't read like they used to.
I don't think anybody will be mad that I 'borrowed' this.