Poisoned Dagger

At first, the pain did not register.

There was shock, at first, and a hitch in her breathing as her eyes widened. The world moved at half-speed, everything slowed down as if it were trying to let her mind catch up. Sound was nothing but a wash of static in her ears, the dull thudding of he heart no more than a whisper in the distance. Her stomach dropped, the sensation of falling overwhelming, and then her knees buckled, and the world caught up.

The pain registered then.

It felt like a car had hit her head , the force and ferocity of the agony making her scream, the deep-seated pain all she could comprehend now. The knife protruded from her chest, over her heart, the blade buried in her to the hilt. He was still holding it, expression blank, not even the tiniest shred of remorse in his eyes as he uttered a few words more, and twisted the knife in its flesh sheath.

She screamed again, muscles spasming as the poison began to work through her veins, taking hold and igniting each nerve in pure agony. She felt like she was burning from the inside out, vision fading into a haze of color, a roar in her ears like she was being consumed by a pyre. He pulled away, leaving the knife in her, sweeping away without another word.

She crumbled, gasping for breath, tears streaming down her face as she continued to sob, her whole body shaking as she tried to fight the poison. A hand alighted onto her shoulder, someone finally coming to save her. They whispered words of encouragement, someone else kneeling before her, inspecting her wound. They laid her gently on her back, more coming to hold her down and whispering reassurances as they removed the knife.

She screamed until her throat bled, the pain of the removal just a painful as the insertion. The poison was the cruelest kind, keeping her alive but in unending agony. Her vision began to fade, blurred by tears, and they tried to calm her.

“It’s alright,” she whimpered. “I’m used to it.”

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