Y/n, better known as "Scout" is someone who just wanted a peaceful life. Someone who ran away from all the noise and the chaos and fled to someplace much sweeter. But they never expected to find a boy in the middle of a snowstorm, injured, and unabl...
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warning: gore, angst, violence
MY body was aching. My hand throbbed with an intense pain, and every breath I took caused sharp pains to ripple throughout my chest. My sides ached, and the adrenaline in my veins was beginning to wear off.
Jett looked as if he couldn't be phased by any of his injuries. Dried blood cracked under his nose, and he briefly lifted a hand to his chest where I kicked him, wincing every so slightly. But that was the only indication of his pain that he'd given me.
"Tired?" I asked. His glare only darked, his hand reaching for the knife on the ground.
"Bitch." He pulled his arm back to swing the knife.
As the blade swept toward me, I stepped in close to his body, so when I turned my right shoulder brushed his chest. Using the edges of my opened hands, I struck his upper and lower arm. The combined force of my strike and his swing made Jett's arm go immediately limp. The weapon clattered to the ground.
Grabbing his arm, I twisted it until the heel of his hand pointed toward the sky. Then I pivoted, placing my right shoulder under his elbow. I yanked his hand down. With a loud crack, Jett's arm broke.
"You motherfucker!" He screamed. "I'll fucking kill you! You're dead!"
Spinning around to face him, I punched him twice in the nose. Blood gushed. While he was off balance, I kicked his kneecap, shattering it. He crumpled to the ground.
I danced around him, kicking him in the ribs. "Funny, I don't feel dead."
When he was still, I knelt beside him and felt for a pulse. A strong throb met my fingertips.
Jett clutched my elbow. "You—"
I yelped and punched him in the face. His grip relaxed, and I pulled my arm free. Snatching the knife from the ground, I bolted.
I ran straight for the river, my gaze set on my bow laying idly in the grass. It hurt so bad to run, and I felt as if I could collapse on the ground at any moment. But when I did, it wasn't because of exhaustion or pain. I felt something tear through the flesh of my thigh, and I heard my femur bone audible snap.
My scream bounced off the trees as I tumbled onto the ground, my eyes screwing shut at the pain. I reached down and clutched my thigh, pulling my hand back to expose the red that coated my hand. It spurted from the wound, quickly cascading onto the grass and staining my jeans, making them cling to my leg. I tried to stand up, but I couldn't even move my leg enough to bring it under me to get any leverage.
I watched Jett's boots come into my view. He was limping, probably due to his shattered kneecap. I tried reaching for my bow, but he slammed his foot down on my hand, snapping the bones in a swift motion. I screamed again.
I was dizzy with pain, tears pricking the corner of my eyes. I propped myself up on my forearm, watching as Jett grabbed my bow and threw it off to the side, and I heard it splash into the river. I looked up at him as he glared down at me. I felt my heart sink into my stomach when my gaze was obstructed by the barrel of his gun. I stared down into the chamber, my eyes going wide. My lips parted, a broken exhale passing my lips.
