My last one had been tough to kill. The others hadn’t been much of a challenge, but this guy spotted the fact that my arm wasn’t in the best shape and latched onto it tightly. Agony pumped through my arm as he drove his fingers into my flesh, ripping apart the straining stitches as he went.
I roared, reeling from the pain. I couldn’t see straight, bright stars popped underneath my eyelids and for a moment there was nothing but the ripping pain. Using that moment to his advantage, he tore my knife out of my hand. I punched at him, but it didn’t seem to make much difference. He was the last one standing, and he was determined to get out of this alive. My stomach twisted as he tried to tug the muscle from the bone. His fingernails were inside of me.
He pulled back the knife. I felt it as he moved slightly away from me. My eyes snapped open. He would’ve torn right into my belly if I hadn’t caught his wrist as he brought it swinging back towards me. We struggled. I broke his arm, forcing him to drop the knife. He ripped the hole in my arm further. Both of us were barely standing, slick with blood and panting from the pain. He let go of me and staggered back, cradling his wrist, biting back tears at the way his bone bent at a sickening angle.
I bent to pick up my knife, closing the distance between us. He dropped to his knees, begging with me for his life. His pleas fell on deaf ears. The knife slid into his windpipe and tore a gaping hole in it. I watched him collapse, spluttering for air as he choked on his own blood and cartilage.
Glancing up, I watched as Sophia turned away from me. I frowned.
There was silence for a moment. I sagged with relief. As much as I enjoyed a good fight, I was exhausted, and beginning to feel kinda dizzy from the blood loss.
“You son of a bitch!” I heard Joe screaming. I looked around to where he was just in time to see Joe stick a knife into the guts of a kid about his age. It was the one he’d been glaring at from the shadows before. He brought home the knife a couple more times and the kid collapsed, his hands desperately fumbling to stop the flow of blood. It wasn’t going to be much use. Joe stepped back; the rage wavered and was suddenly replaced with disbelief. The kid gurgled on the floor, trying to spit out one last comment before he went. It wasn’t audible from here, and from the look on Joe’s face, he hadn’t quite caught it either. He looked from the kid to me, not certain what to do.
I gave him a moment to finish it as this kid just flopped about on the floor bleeding out, but he didn’t do it. I walked over to where they were and rolled the kid over with my foot so he was facing me.
“I’m guessing you deserve this,” I muttered. His eyes darted from Joe to my knife to me and back again, silently shaking his head. I looked at Joe. All he could do was nod. It was over in seconds, but as blood leaked out of his throat, it felt like a life time.