She loomed over him, cautious not to flinch. She knew that any false move would cause him to run again, making her job of ending his life that much more difficult. She raised her weapon slowly, slowly, hoping that her aim would prove true with the first blow.
It was quiet then. Nothing but the sound of labored breathing escaping her impossibly tight lungs. She stood rigidly, poised to strike. And yet, nothing happened. They stared at one another, both wondering when the moment of inevitable execution would arrive.
In a moment of white adrenaline, her arm exploded forward. Weapon met crumpling torso as she struck him down in her blind panic. She had to know that he was dead, had to kill him or die of fear herself, so she struck again and again. His blood began to stain the walls as she beat his lifeless body into a visceral soup.
She finally stopped swinging her arm, vaguely confident that the job was done. She staggered for a moment as the blood began to slow its path to her brain. The surging need to fight began to leak out of her head and calm took its place.
She looked down at him. He'd never stood a chance, really. Once she'd seen him, she knew only one of them was going to get away from this alive. Given her obvious advantages, it didn't seem terribly fair in hindsight.
One small step forward for me, she thought wearily, and one giant step back for Jainism.
With some hesitancy, she collected what remained of his body and threw him away hastily. She couldn't stand looking at him for a second longer than was absolutely necessary.
She climbed into bed still shaking slightly, wishing desperately that arachnophobia didn't drive her to so much bloodshed.
rating: 9
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