Isabelle breathed heavily. Blood dripped from from her extended hand.

Was she in a bad situation? Could this really be the end? There was a man in just his boxer shorts holding a kitchen knife threatening to stab her with it on the other side of the kitchen bench… So yes, technically, she conceded, this wasn’t a great situation.

Isabelle breathed heavily, deeper than what would have naturally occurred from the sudden burst of physical activity running from the bedroom, around the dining table, tipping chairs over as she went and into the kitchen, taking refuge around the kitchen island, threatening to run the opposite direction of her pursuer around the island like a dog with a chew toy. Isabelle breathed deeply because she hoped to calm herself, lower her heart rate, and relax, because this was a bullshit situation, she thought. Nobody needed to bring a knife into this. She had done way worse things before and nobody had produced a knife.

Isabelle carefully lowered her extended hand and wiped the blood against the perfectly bleached-white towel she held around her torso with her other hand. Staring back at Kevin, the man with the knife who also happened to be her rapidly greying boyfriend almost twenty years her senior. The fresh red blood soaked into the pristine white towel against her olive skin with a strand of her dark wet hair quivering beside it made for a striking scene in the early dawn light. 

Isabelle hoped the blood on the towel might illicit some sympathy from Kevin and encourage him to back away. Kevin just lunged again around the kitchen island and Isabelle had to continue her dance around to the other side. Her bare feet made a sticky patter of taps on the cheap linoleum floor. Kevin glared at her as if she was the anti-christ.
“Don’t be a coward, put the knife down.” Isabelle pleaded provocatively. “You know I didn’t change a thing. I just saw what I saw.
Kevin just shook his head in disbelief.
“What the fuck are you talking about you fucking freak! You've ruined me! You destroyed everything!” Kevin screamed.
“How was I to know about any of that bullshit!” Isabelle was gobsmacked by what she was hearing. “How is this my fault for trying to get your shit together?”
“Just get the fuck out of here! You've done enough! If I ever see you again I'll slit your fucking throat. Kevin continued to scream. “I’ll Fucken... I'll Fucken,” he fumed, almost having an aneurism. “Just get the fuck out and never come back!”
“Where am I supposed to go?” Isabelle asked.
“How the fuck should I know? You can go die in a ditch somewhere for all I care.”

Unfortunately for Isabelle this moment had all too much truth to it. She did not have a job, she did not have a home and years ago she had alienated the only person on Earth who cared whether she lived or died. Isabelle didn’t really care though, even though she was about to be driven out of this house into the rain at knife point she knew she had a power over men. She was young, beautiful and she could certainly be under a new roof in mere hours with a simple vague comment online or after a couple of drinks in a nearby bar. Men and women desired her… but this was not her power.