But I can’t just let him die, I think back to it, looking at the guys standing before me, trying to pick out their weaknesses and trying to calculate how much time I have to beat their asses and get the bleeding one to a hospital. Another shaky breath escapes my lips.
“What are you doing here, girl?” Rodney spits, trying to out on a tough-guy bravado. I can see sweat flow down his forehead.
I feel my body move itself into the attack stance – bending my right knee slightly for the pounce. Keeping my left leg straight and moving it away from the right for the attack – my arms are about to move but quickly, my head turns towards Beanie boy and before he even moves, I’m ducking, rolling to my side, biting my lip to keep myself from crying out as something digs into my back. My back is wet with blood and seat. I hear the sound of a body hitting a trashcan and then a soft groan.
Suddenly I’m being pulled up from my place on the ground. Rodney has me from the back of my shirt, pulling it, causing the hem to rise up and a current of harsh wind kisses my exposed stomach, causing shivers to creep up my spine. Rodney is actually lifting me off the ground, trying to choke me with my own goddamned shirt. My leg goes back, kicking him somewhere – and it must have hurt, too, by the way he’s groaning – and he releases my shirt. Before he can grab onto my hair, I turn around and kick him in the knee – digging the heel of my combat boot in before he crashes to the floor.
One kick. One weakness.
It just saved my freaking life.
“Jesus,” I breathe, pushing my bangs out of my face, wishing I had a hair tie. I turn away from Rodney, jogging towards the boy, praying that I have enough time to get him outta here.
I crouch down in front of his crumbled body, gently putting a finger under his chin, forcing him to look at me.
He better still be alive, dammit. I think as I look into his dark blue eyes that resemble stormy waters. I didn’t come out here just to beat up some dumba –
“Look out!” the boy yells, causing me to turn around…
…Just when Rodney throws his switch blade in a perfect arch, just when he was aiming for the back of my head.
Anger ignites within me like a wildfire as I grab the bleeding boy’s arm and push him out of the knife’s range. I throw myself on top of him, protecting his already wounded body, just when the knife whirls past. I feel the blade slice my upper arm, even though I’m wearing a jacket, causing stinging pain to begin at my upper arm and flow down the rest of it. I even feel it in my freaking fingers. The knife lands with a thump on my back.
More shaky breaths.
I curse under my breath, wanting to scream because the pain in my arm is infinite, burning when the wind caresses it. The thick smell of metallic settles in the air, causing me to gag. I reach for the knife, feeling the cool metal on my skin and get off the boy’s quivering body. This is probably scaring the shit outta him. I’m surprised he hasn’t peed himself yet. I know I’m about to.
I turn towards Rodney. He’s looking at me with shock plastered on his shadowed features.
“Are you a fucking vampire?” he asks, voice as soft as the wind as he backs away from me.
“If I was a goddamned vampire do you think I’d be fighting your wimpy-ass right now?” I demand, curling my fingers around the knife, trying to control my increasing anger and my desire for revenge. “I would’ve drained your blood before I even came in here. And vampires don’t exist, dumbass.”
I’m keeping my eye on the bleeding boy, who’s slowly getting up and staying behind me. There’s a huge blood stain on his white shirt – his gash is probably bigger than mine – and it’s getting bigger with each passing second. I need to get him to a hospital. I need to get myself to a hospital. I need –
“Listen,” I say; my own voice stops my rampaging thoughts. “We’re going to get out of here. I’m taking him to a hospital. You two aren’t going to follow us. And you’re gunna leave him the hell alone.” I take bleeding boy’s hand. Holy hell, he’s vampire-cold. My index finger finds his pulse – thank God he has one – and it’s beating faintly. I point the knife – wishing I had my gun – at Rodney and Beanie boy; my hand is begging me to flick it in their direction to make sure they don’t follow. But with another shaky, controlled breath, my anger dissolves just a bit. Not it’s an irritating hum in the center of my forehead.
Beanie boy smirks and steps towards us, his body language challenging.
“And what are you gunna do if we don’t, lil’ girl?” he asks, moving closer and closer.
Suddenly, I’m standing in front of him, the anger controlling my body. I push him against the wall, my arm pressing against his neck, digging in. The knife is at his throat, the blade almost kisses the skin and releasing blood.
Almost.
The guy inhales deeply, eyes widening in fear. I’m hovering over him. I’m the one in charge of ending – or keeping – his life.
“I think this speaks for itself.” I say through clenched teeth, pressing my arm deeper into his neck, slamming his shaking body roughly against the wall. The bricks that hold the alley together shake, threatening to break.
“Don’t challenge me,” I say quietly, moving away from him but keeping the knife aimed at his chest; knowing if he tried to attack, all it’d take is a flick of the wrist to end his life.
I really, really wish I had my weapons belt. Sure, I may have Rodney’s knife, but I don’t think it can hold both of these punks off.
My breath is ragged as I – gently – push the body in front of me; surprised he can even walk and don’t dare turn my back on these punks since they’re experts in cowardice. With my knife pointed in their direction, we make our way outta the alley.
-ExcerptOfMyNovel.
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