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I grabbed the woman by the hair, pulling her off of her sobbing son. I ignored the boy’s pleas not to hurt his mother as I pushed the Rager onto the ground.
I knew that it was an opportune time to stab my knife into her head. I knew that I should’ve slashed her neck.
I knew all this, but I also knew that I could never do it. How could I possibly live with myself knowing that I killed this woman? A mother?
I was still holding onto hope, through frail, that a cure would be found. When the world was finally saved, I wanted to be able to live with myself and the actions I did when it was hell. I wanted us to be a race worthy of being saved.
I extended a hand towards the prone kid, still a sniveling mess on the ground. The boy merely began to cry harder, and I let out a grunt of annoyance.
“Come on! We need to get out of here!”
The boy blinked rapidly and hesitantly began lifting his hand towards mine.
Something hard hit me in the back of the head, and I tasted blood. Spinning so fast I no doubt got whiplash, I met the snarling face of the mother Rager.
“Tommy, don’t listen to this stranger. Come with Mommy.” Even her voice was distorted, a low growl that was more animal than human.
“Yeah, I don’t think that’s the best idea, Tommy,” I muttered. I leveled my knife at her chest, but I was utterly inept at using it. In only a matter of a seconds, she was behind me, hand gripping my hair in a tight fist.
I winced at the pain, scrambling to free myself from her prying fingers. I let out a slight scream as her hold deepened, tilting my head back in a way that made my neck crack.
I desperately propelled my body backwards. I hoped that it would catch her off guard. It seemed to work, for she released me with a grunt. I swiped at her stomach with my knife for good measure, nausea threatening to take me down when blood welled.
Please don’t make me hurt you. Please don’t make me hurt you.
Unfortunately, I must not have been saying those thoughts aloud because the Rager lunged again. I squeaked, swinging my knife yet again in what I hoped was a threatening manner.
If I was being honest with myself, I probably looked more amusing than threatening.
“Come on! Let’s go!” The little boy, Tommy apparently, was tugging at my arm. I turned towards him, stunned, and the Rager took my momentary lapse in concentration to pounce on me. My head cracked as it hit the concrete, and I felt something metallic in my mouth. Blood. My blood.
In my fall, I must’ve dropped my knife. I was alone, with a Rager on top of me, and no way to defend myself. I’m sure this would be a lesson of what NOT to do in Tamson’s self-defense class.
“You stupid bitch,” the Rager purred, echoing my own sentiment. She leaned down, breath caressing my neck. I squeezed my eyes shut.
Maybe, just maybe, my death would be painless. Maybe, just maybe, I finally atoned for all of my sins.
There was a sudden gurgling sound, and my eyelids flew open.
The woman was still on top top of me, but her eyes were unfocused. Distant. Her mouth was open, blood dripping down her pale chin.
And it was then that I noticed the knife protruding from her head, the copper handle familiar.
It was the knife Ronan had left me. But how did it end up in her head?
That question was soon answered when I saw Tommy, trembling like a leaf, pulling the knife out from where it was lodged in her skull.
She fell.
The darkness around us seemed to consume the continuous onslaught of screams.
