How To Fix A Switchblade Novels & Stories

These guys were quickly getting me pissed off. We circled each other like we were in a dance, one of them hoping to distract me by feinting a sidekick while the other one would attack but I caught on on time and swiped a switchblade from my pocket so fast they didn't see it and attacked the other one head on. He caught my raised hand and smacked it against a tree causing me to howl in pain he turned me around but instead I used that leverage to carry him up and fling him against a huge rock.

And the worst part was that I had stood there in the hallway and watched. I needed an anchor. I needed control. I reached for my spare composite stick, resting against the nightstand, and a fresh roll of black cloth tape. I began to methodically strip the old tape from the blade. The sticky, resistant sound of the adhesive pulling away from the carbon fiber was the only noise in the room. I balled up the ruined tape and tossed it aside, leaving the blade bare and scarred from a hundred brutal impacts. Then, I found the edge of the new roll.

Taking a gamble, I release my grip on one of my daggers. The dagger fell to the floor with a clink and as Nash's line of focus fell to the dagger while it fell, I reached to my back and pulled out a switchblade from the belt to deliver the final blow. The switchblade was already aiming for Nash's throat when I saw it from the corner of my eye. The movement was too fast and my body, unable to react in time, convulsed when a kneecap slammed straight into my unguarded solar plexus. The impact had sent me crashing into the wall behind as if I was a mere sheet of paper. I was by no means light but Nash was that powerful.

I push it in until the entire blade disappears. Maxim has a look of surprise on his face. His eyes are big and his mouth is open in an ‘o’ shape. He slowly slips to his knees, and his hands are trying to reach the knife. Twist it! I follow Clover’s directions. I twist the knife a few times, each movement eliciting a groan from Maxim. I’m able to pull the blade upward, while still in his body, determined to shred whatever it’s hooked into. Maxim gasps as blood falls from the corner of his mouth. His hands, which were just reaching up a minute ago, are now falling to his sides. His body is falling fast as I try to pull the blade out. Leave it.

He said and I switched it on instantly. "Grab me a cold water glass and some ice," I ordered and he instructed some man. I made the atmosphere cool around it so necrosis won't happen. Then I used the back of the scalpel and pulled the flaps apart I saw the artery open and I touched the point slightly with the red hot welder and it stopped.

Alexander watched my back, his expression utterly shattered. Asher was nearly weeping with relief. "I knew it… I knew you still loved me. It's okay. With Celeste gone, nothing will come between us. Everything will be different, I promise." I took his empty hand, my smile gentle and utterly pitiless. "You're holding it wrong. The blade needs to be against the carotid. That's the only way it's quick. Relatively painless." His babbling ceased abruptly, his eyes clouded with confusion. "What?"

I tiptoed around the house, avoiding the windows and glasses that I could see, as well as the security cams. Checking all the doors only to discover it was securely locked, I went into an empty room at the far back of the house, tore off my shirt, wrapped it around a large stone, and threw it inside. I cringed at the loud noise but quickly brushed away the pieces of glass and went inside. I already heard movements after the window broke so I timed my arrival carefully. Seeing a shadow move, I halted and pressed myself up against the wall waiting for the person to pass by, and as soon as she did, I swung my arm forth and wrapped it around the lady's back, my switchblade materializing out of t

Slowly, I leaned back on the stool and parted my legs. Cecilia didn’t mock me or laugh. She only nodded once, as though to say I had made the right choice. Her voice lowered, gentle as she spoke. “I’ll show you how to hold it after. That way you won’t ever cut yourself.” Her hands were sure, guiding, never hurting. She scraped carefully, explaining every movement. “Tilt the blade this way. Never press down. Always glide. Skin is soft, so treat it softly.” I listened, memorizing, trying to absorb each word.

I didn't have the patience for any more delays. He thrust a switchblade towards me that he'd retrieved from his front jeans pocket. I didn't have the presence of mind to question why he was carrying one here "I can't let you go empty-handed. Hide it in the back fold of your jeans and use it only when necessary" he instructed, his tone hard. I shook my head "It'll give me away when they scan me for tracking devices" "It won't. It's ceramic. It won't be detected" he assured me with a confidence that helped to steady my own nerves.

I couldn't get my fingers underneath my nails too short, but I was sure the kitchen would have something. I practically sprinted back to the kitchen and opened drawers until I found the cutlery. Grabbing a knife with a silicon handle I went back to the door and tried again. This time I got the box off and exposed a bunch of wires. It took me a moment to work out what they might do, but I didn't have long so I quickly pulled several off and tapped them together bypassing what appeared to be a control chip of some kind. The door clicked and I exhaled with relief. One hurdle down.