Scapegrace

The hooded man struck me across the cheek, watching pitifully as I curled amongst the gravel in a heap of blood and often desolate tears. He turned back to his partner, who had the majority of the young girl's neck exposed, a silver pocketknife alligned against her loosely throat. The older man's body shook with laughter.
"Any last words before I slice your vocal cords open and leave you to bleed to death?" He asked innocently. The beautiful blonde spat wickedly at her aggressor before parting her thick lips to speak. I watched in amazement at the decision of her final words.
"Fuck you!" she rasped.
For a second, even I could see the vague sight of her inky blood thicken with every passing second.
I hated to admit it but I was beginning to lose hope; and I was losing it fast.
And her bullheaded comments weren't helping.