Three Degrees Of Danger (2019)

|| FOUR ||

"Get ready to die." Sirens blare in my head, shrieking and whooping as I force my body upwards. My hands meet matted grass, clumping between my fingers.

There's smoke and powder everywhere. It spills against the vibrant green and paints the world grey, summoning a choking gasp from my throat. My vision blurs momentarily with tears but there's adrenaline firing through my veins that makes the scene before me sharp enough for me to understand that I am going to die.

Lying in a thin film of dirt, stranded with my weapons stripped from my body, I will not live to watch the daylight fade.

I'm a hunter turned prey.

My killer stands before me, cladded in armour. The thin sunlight that filters through the dense canopy of trees wavers as it strikes his features. They're pale and ghostly, associated with a touch of death. The black aftermath of the bomb has dusted his cheeks but it doesn't erase the tension on his face.

My instincts scream at me to grab a weapon but my brain laughs at the familiar tug that makes my muscles twitch. I'm naked, without anything to attack. Defending myself is out of the question.

"So," The male shoots me a smirk, his lips twisting into an uneven snake-like curl, "Any last words?" He brings a wickedly sharp blade to where his hips are, his fingers architecting a delicate dance along the shininy metal.

I try to speak but the words don't seem to come. The dust clogs up my lungs and renders my vocal cords useless. Gapping at him, I shake my head and shift backwards, the awkward motion creating a burn in my arms.

"Very well." The boy laughs and I cringe at the sound. Ir's a horrible, croaking noise that tears at my eardrums and bleeds through the emptiness of the space around us.

The boy has me trapped between a sword and his leg and I fumble in my pockets, frantically searching for anything that he didn't strip me of. A bomb, a pepper spray. Something that would turn my defeat into his surrender but I emerge futile.

"How do you wanna die, girl?" The boy questions and I'm switching tactics, now praying for a miracle to fall upon me.

When I don't answer, he returns with a backlash. The blade makes contact with my right leg and I hold back a mangled scream that solidifies in my throat. The blood runs down, a narrow stream that gleams in the light.

I can feel the pain, coursing through my body and the tears ache behind me eyes, a pressure that builds up continously, waiting to topple over.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way. I ask you a question and you answer me." The boy snarls. I force my head into a bob but even the motion is difficult to carry out. My thoughts blur into a fuzzy haze as I try to concentrate, try to rip my gaze away from the blood that colours my skin scarlet.

"For everytime you don't abide by my rules, I'll drag out your death a minute longer." The boy hisses through clenched teeth and I'm jerking my head up and down, biting against my collar to suffocate the screams that stack up, one after another in my chest.

I would have laughed were it not for the gravity of the situation. Blood has always been a comforting smell, a substance that offered solace for me. Someone else's blood became a concept of kill and survival that I could understand. But looking at the thick stream pouring right through the gash that slithers down my leg, I'm wondering if this is karma.

A wave of dizziness crashes over me as the boy says something. This time, his voice is somewhat muted and when I glance up, his features are liquifying. The harsh outlines of his nose, mouth and ears are becoming dilute, losing their structure and anatomy.