The End of All Things

7. First Blood

RYLEE

"Are you ready to stop playing cops and robbers and let us go?" I interrupt the big men as they laugh together. They stop abruptly and stare at me.

"Sorry darling, we were just discussing who gets the first go," Foley grins, shrugging off his jacket which he sets on a low metal table near the entrance to the room, along with his gun.

This plan better work! My brain screams as the two of them approach the door and unlock it, letting themselves into my cell. I can smell sweat and cigarette smoke, a scent so thick it nearly makes me gag. Jeremy's yelling threats and Caleb's pleading for them to leave me alone as I back away with my hands still clasped behind my back. Only one of the thugs follow, slowly, as if this is what he enjoys the most.

A bead of sweat rolls down the back of my neck and it sends a shiver coursing down my spine. Every instinct is telling me to get out of here. My muscles are tense and ready to sprint away, but there's nowhere to go. It's fight or flight; conflict or run.

"You stay the hell away from me, ugly cockroach looking freak," I spit at the man called Foley and his smile disappears. Too far? I gulp, stay focused – fight or flight?

He follows as I back into the cold bars and places a hand around my neck, squeezing firmly.

"You do not, talk to me, like that," he punctuates every few words by squeezing my neck a little tighter. I refuse to meet his beady eyes, which isn't as hard as my vision begins to blur. Fight or flight?

His breath curls down my throat as I struggle for air which my lungs begin to burn for. As he fumbles at my belt buckle with one hand, I flex my fingers over the smooth hilt of the dagger that has been passed to me between the bars. I'm going to pass out if he doesn't let go, I can't stall it anymore.

Fight!  I bring the knife around, stabbing at him with an upwards motion that connects just under his jaw. The feeling of the knife entering the flesh makes my stomach heave but I tear the knife back out again, the serrated edge shredding his skin. He collapses against me and I shove him away where he lands in a gurgling heap on the floor.

The other man dives at me and I duck away, twisting from his grasping hands. He stumbles too close to the other cell and the owner of the dagger snatches his greasy hair, pinning him against the bars. The thug squeals like a furious piglet as my saviour winds the long black hair into his fists. 

I brandish the knife in front of me like a sword as I back out of the cell, then hook my foot around the door and fling it shut to hear the satisfying clang of the automatic lock.

The other prisoner has gotten the keys from the man he's restraining and passes them to me so I can unlock his door, and my friends'.

Weird screeching sounds come from greasy-man when the boy lets go of so he spins back to the cell, pointing threateningly at the pooling blood, "you shut up, or you'll get worse than him."'

"Damn Rylee, are you okay?" Caleb's concern bores into my eyes as I unlock Jeremy's cuffs. My hands refuse to stop shaking and the key scratches over the metal for a few seconds before I get it in the lock.

I pause as they click open, "yea." My voice is painfully hoarse, it feels like I just downed a glass of gravel. I killed a man, I killed a man. The words consume my mind, though Foley's body is still twitching a considerable amount on the dirty floor as the last of his blood pumps from his carotid artery.