Life vs. Death: 1

17. Blood

Blood.

It covered the ground and made her shirt sticky. It coated her throat in a salty, metallic tang that made her retch painfully.

She shouldn’t have been there. It had gone straight through her throat. She’d felt it grind against the vertebrae and pierce the back of her neck as she gagged and struggled for breath.

She should have been dead.

She’d looked down the length of steel protruding from her body into the self-satisfied smirk of the person – no, creature – that killed her. Helplessly watched the thing grin and taunt her sisters as life dripped and trailed down the cold metal to hit the ground. As her vision darkened and her hands stilled from scrabbling at the sharp steel, her last conscious thought had been one of simmering defiance:

How dare she.

And then she was back, retching and coughing blood as friendly hands seized her under the arms and hauled her up. Her hands hurt, her head pounded, and her knees throbbed. And the red substance still flowed and she was soaked in it. Tears streamed from her eyes, the sword no where in sight.

She should have died that day.

Now she’d only remember the blood.

fin