Three Strikes

     I breathed heavily as the man held the knife against my throat, the cold blade close to piercing my skin.

     He brought his lips to my ear, pushing my damp hair out of my face. "Three strikes. Then you're out."

     He pushed me to the ground, retracting the knife and leaving me gasping on the concrete floor.

I felt a needle being stabbed into my neck, my eyes immediately starting to droop.

The room became blurrier as I hit my head on the ground.

"Don't waste them," I faintly heard, before everything went black.