Stories by D: Fight or Flight

As I called Jason's cell, I could tell that Bridget was getting restless. She was pacing back and forth in front of my vehicle, muttering something to herself. I could not hear or understand what she was saying or if it was even English - or even a human language. It was just creepy, Bridget was creepy, hell, this whole ordeal was creepy. I kept calling Jason, hanging up and calling . . . I was hellbent to get the son-of-a-bitch on the line. Suddenly, Bridget ran up to me and proceeded to knock the phone from my hand and wrenched her arm around my neck. I fought back and pushed her aside, but she ran at me once again. I moved away and managed to grab one of her arms and slung her around until my arms were able to grab her from behind in a locked position. She fought back and managed to turn herself around, but I grabbed her neck with both hands. She stopped fighting me, as if she wanted to die. Her body writhed as my thoughtless hands grabbed tighter. I must have been in a trance with my amygdala in fight-or-flight mode, and I had no intentions of letting tonight be my "last rodeo" on this earth. But, I snapped back into reality with enough time to let go of Bridget's neck until she collapsed to the ground. I became afraid that she might die, but she opened her eyes and grabbed at her neck as she struggled to breathe; she looked like someone with dyspnea. She took a while to get up. I was too afraid to go near her. I was already creeped out by the thought of her almost dying and having to handle a cold corpse. However, it was the idea that she might physically harm me again that kept me at bay. By the time Bridget recovered enough to get up, Jason was calling me back. I had dropped the stupid phone during the ordeal with Bridget, so there I was scrambling like poor Helen Keller with no idea where the phone was. My hearing had sustained damage 20 years ago. I had been left with 90% hearing in my right ear and almost none in my left. Plus, my eyes were in terrible shape. I guess one could say I had much physical impairment for a person of my not-so-old age. I finally managed to find the phone, with no help at all from the drama queen who was acting all victimized, just staring at me. By the time I answered, Jason had hung up. I returned the call to no avail; he was not picking up. I tried several more times for the next 30 minutes to get Jason on the phone, but he was unreachable - again. I wondered with disgust where he was and why he was being so difficult to contact. Bridget was starting to recover and went back to pacing back and forth in front of my vehicle like a maniac talking to a ghost. I was getting pissed, Bridget was getting pissed, and I wondered if somewhere out there, Jason was getting pissed, too. Honestly, I didn't know, and I didn't care about how he was feeling. I just wanted this night to end already so I could be rid of Bridget and Jason. I decided to go sit down inside my vehicle when two bright lights, leading the way for what appeared to be Jason's black SUV, suddenly appeared. As the lights got closer, I could tell that Jason was in the back seat as he had been earlier this evening when I picked up Bridget at the hotel. I wondered if Jason was some kind of millionaire, royalty, or something else important that made requisite of being driven around like that. I was just glad to see him, but my anger was at a high level, so all I could think of was yelling at him once he exited the vehicle.