His blood on my hands

Kendra fifteen

I panic squirming around just as he did meere moments ago.

"You believed me so fast." He teases me, slowly dragging his knife across my neck.

"Get off of me."

"Shh. You'll wake the neighbors. My turn for a villain speech."

I want to say something but nothing sounds right so I continue to aimlessly squirm.

"You're so transparent. You don't like to think it but you are. I knew your plan from the start. If you could even call it a plan. What was it again? Corner him and stab him? Right?"

"Get the hell off of me!"

"Or what?" He smirks tracing the knife all over my arms and face.

I have no response so I stare deeply into his eyes, hoping to intimidate him.

"I've been waiting for so long, Kendra. So give me your pathetic 'last words' so I can end you."

I have no idea what to say, I push my hands up, hoping to catch him off guard but his leg has a strong grip on my entire body.

"Why didn't you kill me that day in the woods? When you showed me the lights." I barely manage. I didn't realize how out of breath I was until I talked.

"Because I wanted to wait. For the time to be right. So I had just enough trust that when I plunged my sword into your flesh I could see hurt and pain in your eyes. A misty fog right before you die. Before your face goes white."

"God, you're dramatic. So poetic."

"Well, so are you. I guess we're perfect for each other."

I try to bring my leg up and knee him from behind but he catches every small movement I make and stops it with his legs, his arms still dragging the knife across me.

"So, you never loved me?" I ask, trying to play victim, though I know it won't work.
"Of Course not. And you never loved me."

"Of Course not." I suck at playing victim.

"You know, that little hike on graduation day was quite adorable. Honestly, you got close on that one."

"Why didn't you kill me before the medics arrived?"

"God, so many questions for someone who pretends not to care."

"Well, why not?" I've already lost my dignity, might as well, "You even screamed, called my name. For someone who claims to be smart, you sure did attract a lot of attention. No one would have even noticed for days had you shut up."

"I don't know why I screamed. I panicked. I don't know. I didn't expect you to fall off the mountain like a fucking idiot. Then I ran down to see if your heart was still beating or if you did my job for me."

"You panicked?" Great excuse.

"I'm done with this bullshit." He starts to trace his knife deeper, drawing a little blood.

Fuck. It stings as the salty rain brushes the scars. Maybe this is the end. The tragic ending to every story. Stupid girl lets her gaurd down for even stupider boy who just caught the right moment to swoop in. I don't mind dying. Never have. But to die as a failure? It stings more than my scars. I will kill him. Even if it kills me. He goes deeper and I can't help but let out a small groan. My head starts to droop; I feel drunk. I have to blink a few times to see his face. His eyes calloused and cold, his curly hair dripping onto me. I have to do it now, or I'll die.

I kick my legs and he shifts his position to stop them.

"Still trying?" He laughs.

As he pins my legs I reach my hands to knock the knife out of his hands but he stops them with his other leg and hand. Just as I knew he would. Then I knock my head into his, sending a stinging pain across my upper half. Suddenly I arch my back up quickly, flinging him off of my stomach. And with the slight element of surprise I get back on top of him, punching him in the nose quickly to ensure he's weak for a few more seconds.

No villain speech this time. I raise my dagger high above his head.

"I win." I say, bringing it down quickly.

He stops me with his arm. I didn't realize I had left it out.

"Kendra, wait! Please." God he's good at playing dumb.

"Hurry with it." My knife is centimeters from his chest.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." His eyes soften so quickly. He deceives so easily. I envy it.

I raise my dagger again for dramatic effect, his right hand still gripping his tightly. His hands are turning red and veiny from the amount of pressure.

His eyes travel frantically, he's looking for something to say.

"Do you want to run away?" He says, "Never turn back? Because I love you. No tricks this time."

He drops his knife.

I stare into his eyes. Deep. Dark. It reminds me of the day I met him. It reminds me of the day we walked back from the library at 6:30 together but not 'together'. I remember how I tutored him and how I kissed him against a rock. How we had danced just a moment before.

Then I stabbed him right in the chest.

In three seconds his pulse was gone.