I had decided that being stabbed in the heart wasn’t as painful as I’d imagined.
I tensed up, my hands wrapping around the hilt of the blade now embedded in my chest. The thief was still standing there, gripping my bag tight and shaking like a leaf. He looked young - a little older than me, maybe. He looked scared. Was this his first time killing someone? Probably. I couldn’t make out his features very well in the shadows of the dark alley, which was a bit disappointing. Why did I even care about stuff like that? I was dying.
You know how people say that your whole life flashes before your eyes when you’re taking your lasts breaths? Well, it’s not true. In fact, I could barely think straight. My mind was all cloudy. The scrawny-looking thief was still standing there, trembling. Like he expected me to drape my …show more content…
I pulled back my arm and then sucker-punched him right in the eye; he crumpled to the ground, head cracking on the gravel street. I winced. I hoped I hadn’t killed him - I didn’t really want that sort of red in my ledger. Even if he had just stabbed me in the chest.
I stooped down, picking up my satchel. More thunder rattled the ceiling tiles of the tavern to my right, and rain began to fall in fat droplets. I began to walk, one foot after another, in the direction of my house. I felt strangely calm, considering the circumstances I had just gotten out of. I traced a finger over the outline of the hole that the knife had left in my canvas shirt. I should’ve been dead. Why wasn’t I dead?
My house had just come into view when I began to feel light-head. My upper lip grew warm; I touched it gingerly, and when I pulled my hand away it was sticky with crimson liquid. My nose was bleeding. One poorly-placed step later and I had tripped over myself, ending up on the ground with my face in the gravel. The last thing I heard was the whinny of a horse before I completely passed out.
I tensed up, my hands wrapping around the hilt of the blade now embedded in my chest. The thief was still standing there, gripping my bag tight and shaking like a leaf. He looked young - a little older than me, maybe. He looked scared. Was this his first time killing someone? Probably. I couldn’t make out his features very well in the shadows of the dark alley, which was a bit disappointing. Why did I even care about stuff like that? I was dying.
You know how people say that your whole life flashes before your eyes when you’re taking your lasts breaths? Well, it’s not true. In fact, I could barely think straight. My mind was all cloudy. The scrawny-looking thief was still standing there, trembling. Like he expected me to drape my …show more content…
I pulled back my arm and then sucker-punched him right in the eye; he crumpled to the ground, head cracking on the gravel street. I winced. I hoped I hadn’t killed him - I didn’t really want that sort of red in my ledger. Even if he had just stabbed me in the chest.
I stooped down, picking up my satchel. More thunder rattled the ceiling tiles of the tavern to my right, and rain began to fall in fat droplets. I began to walk, one foot after another, in the direction of my house. I felt strangely calm, considering the circumstances I had just gotten out of. I traced a finger over the outline of the hole that the knife had left in my canvas shirt. I should’ve been dead. Why wasn’t I dead?
My house had just come into view when I began to feel light-head. My upper lip grew warm; I touched it gingerly, and when I pulled my hand away it was sticky with crimson liquid. My nose was bleeding. One poorly-placed step later and I had tripped over myself, ending up on the ground with my face in the gravel. The last thing I heard was the whinny of a horse before I completely passed out.