"The ultimate act of submission." He said provokingly. "On your knees."
My teeth clenched together, my throat vibrating with a low growl that shook my entire body to the core with defiance. I resisted every impulse, every survival instinct, every reflex to rip his throat out. Instead I focused all that firy, passionate hatred in resisting his voodoo - hes atempt to bring me literally, physically to my knees.
Holding onto my sword's handle I fought for control of my own body. Then my knees buckled. With the last ounce of control I possessed I pushed off the floor with my sword's tip and landed hard on my backside.
I looked up just in time to see the look of absolute rage that transformed his dark face into something so much darker than any physical appearance. He, obviously, easily gave into impulse and reflex because with brut, blunt, submissive anger he lurched forward.
Knowing when and when not to heed survival instinct is, in itself, a survival instinct, but must b honed through years of lif-or-death battle experience. With a flick of my wrist and a thrust of my arm my blade was deep inside his sternum. Quickly I wrenched it free and drove it in once more; this time it nestled within his stomach.
"You vampire bitch!" H spat, the rage in his tone turning to that of agony with each word.
I couldn't help but smile. "You don't know the half of it." My tone was somehow humorous and pleasant.
As he fell forward I quickly knelt on one knee and pushed my stained blade into his first cervical. A mix of hatred and of a built-up suppression allowed me to pull back with all my strength. The sound of splitting bone reached my ears, a sound so loud, so undeniably stomach-turning it split my foundation. Red and white were the main colors I saw, the only ones I remembr. Thy came at me. I dropped my sword, crossed my arms in front of my chest lik crossed swords before sparring, and ducked my head low. Warm liquid, fragments of a substance, then an ice-cold and silent shudder.
COMMENTS
-