Potent Potential

Potent Potential - Eleven - Dead or Dying?

Eleven – Dead or Dying?

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We were working on defence first, and defence only, he’d said. And he’d made that very clear at the start. Every time I’d tried to attack him, with small jabs, he’d moved away so fast I’d barely seen him. And the times I got close only made it all the more harder to avoid his next attack. I hastily swung my arm up to block Pulsifer’s next strike, my arm throbbing with the constant exertion and my vision blurring as sweat trickled into my eye. I shook my head and darted back as light flashed off his knife.

“Are you trying to kill me?” I gasped as the blade swung by inches from my nose. I blocked the next attack and circled away from him, trying to give us some distance so that I could catch my breath.

He swung again, although this time he distracted me with one hand and, all of a sudden, he was tight on my side, the sharp edge of his blade scratching my throat. My breath caught.

“Don’t undermine my control.” This close, I could see the beads of sweat on his forehead but he was scarcely breathing hard. “I won’t hit you.”

He drew back and swiftly swung low so that I had to leap in the air to avoid my shins being sliced. I hardly cleared the blade and shuddered to think how it would feel to have my flesh carved open again. Despite what he said, the speed and concentration of his attack made it seem like he would cut me open if I didn’t avoid him.

After I landed back on two feet, I wasn’t granted a rest. He came at me with combos of jabs that I had to slap away and hard slices I was forced to dodge. My abs screamed for rest as I ducked under a wide swing and, under the influence of pure instinct, I shot my hand up and twisted his wrist into a lock that made him drop the knife. He unlatched my hand just as quickly and pulled back, grinning. The time that it took for him to reach up the back of his sweater and unsheathe another knife was my break.

He came at me again and again. His grin growing a little larger every time I faltered or narrowly avoided being beheaded.

“You fucking jerk,” I gasped as his knife caught my clothing and sliced cleanly through, lightly scratching my arm.

Was this a training or was he actually trying to kill me?

He flipped the knife, catching the blade between his fingers, and tossed it at me. I could swear he split a couple of hairs on my head as it flew past. I stared at him in complete horror.

“That’ll do,” he said cheerfully, turning towards the door.

“Wait!” I stopped him, my heart still pounding. “No offense today?” All I’d been doing was running away. I needed to get some back.

He turned back. “You need to be able to stop an attack first. And I mean a real attack, when I’m going all out. Until then, it’s defence, defence, defence.”

He left.

I rested my hands on my knees and sucked in air. There were several knives littering the floor, the ones I’d managed to take out of his grasp. He was just leaving them here in the school’s training room? I slowly picked them all up, including the one embedded in the wall, and piled them in the corner. I winced at their sharpness. It was obvious that he wanted me to feel real fear as I defended against him but there’d been too many close calls today. I was actually scared for tomorrow’s session.