7

Like a broken video recorder, the scene of the short, thin dagger, piercing and taking root below the jaws of the lady before him kept playing over and again in my head, red blood pooled beneath me, as heat left her corpse. I felt cold, confused and powerless, father didn't prepare me for this, what was I to do now? Why had the room become colder? Why couldn't I muster any strength to even move a finger? Why couldn't I breathe? Was I going to die too?. And thus the water works began, I sniffled and choked on my tears, saliva and snot as I struggled to push air down my throat to my deprived lungs.

Then I heard it, soft yet if echoed more loudly than the screams downstairs, it sent chills down my spine and raised the hairs on my skin.

'Tap, tap, tap', slowly but surely, the footsteps made it way towards the room I was in. I looked with pure dread at the open door, there was a hand on the door lintel.

"You are in here, aren't you freak?", the hand owner spoke, his voice low but deep, as he appeared by the door, his face drenched with blood that originated from his eyes.

Bastard two? No, bastard one, I had driven a pair of daggers into his eyes and blinded him earlier. How much of a psycho is he to still keep coming after me?. I shivered inwardly, sitting absolutely still.

"Heh, here I thought you were chatty, what, cat got your tongue?. C'mon freak, say something!". I couldn't though, right now I could feel the adrenaline returning, my body giving it all to switch from fright mode to flight mode and if left with no choice fight mode. I absolutely do not want to die.

I watched him silently, chills still ran down my spine, but the fear was ebbing away slowly, giving way to the excitement brought by the rush of adrenaline running through my veins, the smell of death hung heavy in the air, for though he was blind, I knew for certain that this was the most dangerous moment of my life, one wrong step and I would find myself lying dead like the corpse before me.

"You killed her didn't you? I know you did, I can smell the blood in the room. Quite the vicious little thing you are, I bet she didn't try to kill you, she was always too soft for this line of work, too kind, but you killed her. You fucking killed her, you murdered my wife you fucking monster!".

I watch him grope his way into the room, the blood on his palms staining the walls of the room, I say still though, even cell in my body in a discordant state of absolute stillness and hyper inner motions, I barely kept my shit together through it all.

At this point, I had totally blanked out on everything he was yammering about, yes he was there, bristling with rage and stalking blindly into the room, yelling all sorts of profanities absolutely unsuitable for the ears of a ten year old. Different ideas ran through my head as I tried to map a way of escape out of the room and one to defend myself, so yeah, two plans. Dad always said, "son, you can't have a plan without a back-up plan".

Damnit brain, bad timing for reminiscence, your timing could not be any worse. "I killed him kid", he was at the bathroom door now, just a step or two away from me now. He stopped moving.

"I can feel you kid, how much longer can you stay quiet?. No one's coming to save you. I killed him you know, you stabbed him in the groin and left him for dead. You're a cruel kid, how could you leave him like that?. Bet she didn't try to kill you did she?. She prolly tried to you up and deliver you safely, but she's dead now, and it all because of you. I will enjoy breaking every bone in your body once I lay my hands on you".

Alright, vibe check, I'm losing composure, damnit, he ain't even going easy on a kid. Fuck this!!. Just as bastard one, maybe three? Honestly it doesn't even matter anymore, just as he moved another step forward and into the slain mercenary's blood, I pushed off the ground and leaped unto dad's bed.

For a blind man, he was quite perceptive, pushing off after me, he slipped though, on both blood and corpse on the ground, falling roughly on the blood drenched carpet. I didn't observe him further as I ran towards him, leaping off the bed and over him, I fell just as roughly and within reach of he's murderously, iron studded boots. We moved in tandem, flipping off the ground and running, the direction was the door to get the fuck out of the room, while slamming the bathroom door shut mid run.

Time seemed to have stopped for me, object moved passed me at a speed so slow it seemed like I was barely moving, so of course shutting a door behind me will be as easy as swatting a fly. Without even looking back or trying to understand when my right arm became sentient enough to act on it own, because my brain definitely didn't give any commands to shut the door, I ran straight out of the room and took a hard dive to the left. I'm no gymnast, and those set of moves all at once set off a wave of pain so powerful it rode through ma while body like a tide. It didn't feel good at all.

I layed down on the wood floor, breathing hard while trying to ease the pain by being as limp as possible while trying to quench the flame in my chest with the oxygen I took hard and fast. The whole sequence of action was totally wrong because my body was was unhappy with my moving too much while it tried to fix itself, and the flames in my chest seemed to burn harder the more oxygen I breathe in. Huh, maybe I can spit fire.

'Shlick'. That was the sound of a dagger being driven into my left shoulder, what came next was a blur too clear to be understood. After all, when stuff is blurry, it shouldn't be comprehensive right?. Buh this blur of event was absolutely comprehensive. From screaming at the top of my voice, pulling the knife strapped to my waist, which I had totally forgotten about until now and ripping myself of the ground, turning around and slipping, then plunging said knife into a neck that just fucking appeared outta nowhere.

It went in smoothly, like extremely smoothly, no pressure, counteracting force, nothing. The fucking blade just slid right into his neck like butter. How's that even possible?!. Who the fucking fuck just fucking lies on the ground and waits for death?. "Demon spawn!! I'm coming for you!!".

Of course, there's always that one guy. My body and brain and mind seemed to have come into an agreement to toss this death down a hole and only pull it back out to deal with it when the boss level got cleared. I ripped the knife out of the corpse neck and tried to get off the ground. A sharp pain shot through my whole body, part from my previous award winning gymnast level stunt and also from the taking temporary residence in my left shoulder. Favoring my left arm as I stood up again hurriedly to unsteady feets, I made my towards the stairs, I could hear the chaos going on downstairs, apparently, my family was still holding on, I was on fight mode now. The adrenaline coursing through me rushed through my blood stream even faster with the pain of the blade lodged in my shoulder, just a bit below the collar. It hurt just as much as it bled, but it filled me with a strange calm, one that came with a resolution to live, I'm not dying tonight.

I could hear him shuffling he's way down the short corridor, catching up to me quickly, without looking back, I let my knees give in, kneeling with a plop. He ran into me and toppled over. I acted immediately, the pain on my left shoulder screaming like hell for attention, I paid it no mind, instead I slammed the blade into the leg of the bastard who laid before me, pulling it out and slamming it back in just as quick. He did not like that, legs flew, they flew right into my little chest and tummy, sending me tumbling and making the knife shift, this time I felt it scrape a bone.

I was going crazy with pain, black spot begun to fill my vision, the sweet song of unconsciousness sang to me, that in it, there was no more pain, it cooed to me to give up struggling meaninglessly, to walk away from consciousness and fall into it loving embrace. It was tempting, exceedingly tempting but I knew, if I gave in, I would die. There was no two ways about it, so once again, I forced myself to stand, bleeding quite seriously as I watched the similarly bleeding man before me. He had taken his mask off, looking between the ages of 36 and 40, I wouldn't know anyway. He was making his way towards me, the dagger I had stabbed him twice with clenched tightly in the palm of his right hand and a cruel smile which spoke of death, my death, hung on his lips.