I need a fix 'cause I'm going down

She thought she had seen him accross the street, walking calmly, smoking one of those stinky cigars. She ran chasing him, a bus passed in front of her and when she got to the other sidewalk, there was no trace of Mr. N. I started calling him N. because of her, just my silly habit of taking up other people's nicknames. She knew it was possible, that he could be back, that he would never stop hunting her. She was slightly drunk, head spinning with the rush fromt he idea of getting rid of him. He deserved it, afterall. She saw another bus pass her by, and felt the pleasure of pushing him in front of it, hearing the breaks, the hit, the smashing soud of brain and blood spilled on the concrete, the "ohs" and "ahs" from the walkers around, such pleasure...