I Stole From A Thief

“Going somewhere, boy?” he laughed maniacally. The moon was not bright enough to illumine his entire face; all I could see was the silhouette of his features and his cold-blooded muddy brown eyes. He stared at me like a predator would to a prey. “I don’t think so!” his hand clutched the front of my shirt to draw me closer to him. “I’m going to enjoy killing you, pretty boy.” He traced the square of my jaw with the cold blade of his knife. The blade stopped on the spot underneath my ear and grazed my skin. Warm blood trickled down my chin, staining the front of my shirt.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I looked away to prevent anger from getting the better of me. I clenched my teeth and closed my eyes hoping that I could just disappear in the face of the earth. He had threatened me too many times before for me to be scared of him even when he is drunk and his knife is dangerously close to my skin.
“Look at me! I want to see the life go out of your eyes as I stick this knife inside of you. I want you to see how I will end you, like I ended your parents.” His putrid breath only fuelled my anger. I could taste the sour bile making its way to my mouth, scorching the insides of my throat on its way.