“Get off of him!” Scout’s shrill scream came just as a loud thunk above me caused Yorick to fall to the side.
I inhaled and tried to sit, but I was dizzy and swayed.
“Scout, stop!” I put my hand out, but she was moving too fast. She kicked him and shoved her sharp, six-inch heels I had bought her just this afternoon into his thigh. He screamed as she put all of her weight into it.
“Stop!” he screamed. Then, as if suddenly we were in slow motion, Yorick opened his hand and the knife clamored to the floor. Scout was faster than me. She scooped the knife up and held it out with a shaky hand.
I stood, finally regaining my footing. She sunk down onto Yorick’s lap, her heel still stuck in his thigh. The wound in his leg was distracting him. I watched, too stunned to move, as Scout pulled the knife from behind her and shook her head.
“You don’t threaten my man.”
“Or what?”
“Or this.” She held her arm up and swung down, sinking the knife deep into his chest. He tried to stand, but Scout quickly leaned over and used all her strength to pull a chair to her. The chair squealed, and Yorick fell back, scrambling to pull the knife from his chest. Scout pulled again, and the chair fell over, right onto his head, squishing him. Blood and brain matter splattered all across Scout’s face, dress, and exposed skin. She tried to step back but her heel was stuck. Her eyes went wide as she stared down at it. I hurried to her, bending down to unstrap the shoe and set her free. I stood and pulled her to me.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“I…” She gulped.
“Sshh.” I pulled her tighter, kissing her hair over and over. “It’s fine. I told you, we were going to do a job, and you did. It’s over. We’re done. You did it, baby. See, it’s nothing. He was a bastard, and now he can’t hurt anyone ever again,” I whispered to her over and over, trying to reassure her everything was going to be fine. “How do you feel?”
She looked up, and when our eyes met, I was surprised to see no tears. She pressed her lips and then answered me.
“I feel… good.”
