The Twist Of A Knife の小説・ストーリー

I twisted it to the back, emitting more groans from him. He was trying to free himself from my vicious twist. "You've got the wrong person tonight." I uttered, rage filling my veins. A unexpected kick from behind had me almost hitting the floor with the guy. A quick sharp blow to the neck, I pushed the guy away from me to focus on who had just kicked me. As soon as I turned, a knife was already coming down on me. "Not today, son of a bitch!" I began to wrestle the knife away from him.

Infront of me , on my lap , five throwing knives lay on the rough material being held in place by little rubber bands attached to the fabric . My eyes lit up when I seen the colour . They were turquoise. A big smile instantly appeared on my face as I admired the knives , that each one , slowly got smaller as my eyes ran across them . I touched the edge of the knife , getting a little paper cut . The knives were really sharp , and I could see symbol on the knives . It was an Ace symbol . It was small and simplistic but I really liked it.

I twisted on instinct, narrowly avoiding its strike, and flung my blade in a desperate arc, hoping to sever it before it could wrap itself around me. The blade cut cleanly through. For half a second, I thought it worked. But cutting it didn’t help. The severed segments didn’t lie still; they writhed and twisted like melted clay, reshaping themselves. In an instant, the sticky limbs coiled around me, clinging tight and pulling me off balance.

The blade glinted in the soft light. His gaze shifted to his other arm, and he fixated on his wrist. The world around him seemed to fade into the background as his focus narrowed on that single point. He put the sharp side of the knife against his wrist, clenching his teeth. He pressed down, cutting his wrist without any hesitation. He watched as the red blood flowed from the wound, soaking the white carpet beneath him. However, he still wasn't experiencing as much pain as the ache caused by Sara's absence. It seemed like the wound needed to be deeper. He positioned the knife's edge over his wound once more, intending to cut it again and make it deeper.

I pretty much looked like rotten goat cheese. The sharp sour feeling crept over to my chest, slowly a lump was forming in my throat and my eyes were stinging, itching for some reason and all of these are a sign that I am about to ball my eyes out. I snort, breathing and blinking my eyes and clutching my jaw from time to time. I have to be strong. I have made it till far and I can survive this. I know I can. I give myself a motivational talk. To avert my attention from the bruises I grab my hair brush to straighten out my natural hair curls. It’s always easy to do it when it’s soaking wet than dry because if it is dry it becomes a handful to brush. Very stubborn.

He asked frantically. "Oh, I don't want all that. All I want is you. Marry me-I don't care if you love me or not because I know that with the matter of time you will be begging for me" he looked back and forth from her to his girl but his girl shook her head no. "Or..." She dragged out. "I will let my boys have their way with her and you watch; I think that will be the best," she mocked out. She moved forwards to her and took out a knife and she cut her wrist with it, as blood oozed out from there.

"Yeah? You really think that? You're such a hard-ass, Eros. Shit happens in war. We fight, we make up, we move on. Don't be such a pussy." "When you see Conti, tell him he should've burned with his house." I lunge forward, grab Bosco by the hair, and plunge the blade into his throat. He gags in shock. I rip it out and stab him again, and again, each time in the neck. Blood spurts from his wound. A nearby waitress screams and drops her tray. I plunge the edge and saw into Bosco's jugular up to the hilt before I shove him over, his body twitching, his blood pumping out bright red and arterial. I stand over him, breathing hard, as four Yakuza soldiers come rushing over from the bar with guns le

“Pendejo, did you trip again?” I waited a couple second before I fell into the aisle onto my side. Throwing one of the knives, it landed its mark into the forehead of the first one headed down the aisle and he dropped. I was waiting for him to fall and as the head of the guy behind him was visible, I threw another knife. My hand seized up and I grimaced but the second guy dropped as well.

A tray of folded cloth. Glass bottles. Mortar and pestle. A small paper knife lying beside a wooden cutting board stained with crushed herbs. There. With the last, desperate reserve of strength in my failing body, I lunge for it. The instant my trembling fingers close around the handle, I aim straight for my throat. Hands slam down on me with lightning speed, wrenching the blade inches from my throat.

Davis knelt next to her, his hand hovering uncertainly before he laid it softly on her shoulder. Quiet ly, he murmured, "This isn't over," determination shining in his eyes. "We'll handle this”.