The lead boy stepped forward, narrowing the distance between them. Clara’s pulse hammered furiously against her ribs. She felt a cold wave of dread wash over her as the boy slowly, deliberately reached his right hand into his heavy jacket pocket.
Her mind raced through a gallery of nightmares. She felt utterly helpless and cornered. She knew there was no point in screaming. Clara braced herself, closing her eyes tightly, utterly terrified of what was about to happen as the boy’s hand emerged from the fabric.