The Turn AroundMature

From the quiet sobbing it sounded like I'd made it just in time. I dropped low and slow as I entered, careful not to hit any loose floorboards. The sounds seemed to be coming from the bathroom, at least this bastard was professional enough to not get bloodstains on the floor. As quietly as I could, I slipped up and opened the bathroom door, inch by inch.
    She was tied to the shower stall, beaten, bloody, hanging by her hands, the skin of her abdomen flayed from the meat and pulled tight to the walls so that it slowly tore. Her torturer, head to toe in red leather, was sitting across from her on the toilet with a smug, victorious look on his face. She noticed me, he didn't. I could feel her horrifyingly lucid eyes rest on my face for a moment as they rolled in her head. I took a deep, slow breath, hoping my opponent was less savvy then he looked.
    With a sharp turn I kicked in the door and faced the sadist. I whipped my knife at him as I pulled a handful of powdered glass from my coat pocket. He easily sidestepped the knife and started moving in. Quickly, the distance between us closed and as it did I brought my fistful of blindness to bear. The stomp-kick he threw at me barely missed as I slipped to the side and hauled back. Time seemed to slow. All at once I saw my glittering, half-open fist connect with the orbit of his left eye, spraying glimmering fragments of agony in to his loose eyelids/ Elena kicked and pulled down hard, taking the shower-curtain rod with her as the skin .f her stomach shredded free with a sickening sound. I had never respected someone as much as I did her right then. The attacker stumbled back, howling in rage and pain. As he did, Elena lept knees first into his back and swung her hands, and consequently the shower rod up over his head and around his neck. A quick pull and a hard twist and it was all over. His neck snapping like dry twig.

The End

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