of blood and lies ; dystopian

43

Present

Karro stood tall above me, scalpel in hand.

"Stand up," he ordered.

I hesitated. I looked at the edge of the bed, and then back to Karro. He spun the tool in his hand. He maneuvered it in between his fingers until the handle faced me.

I reached for it and stood.

"What are you doing?" I asked, my fingers tightening around the scalpel.

"Stab me with it," he replied. I blinked, unmoving. I awaited a flicker of amusement. Any sign of a joke.

None appeared.

Was he insane?

Karro huffed. His eyes fixed on the tool in my hand. "If worse comes to worse, you stab her with it. The soldiers aren't real. But, you haven't fought in years. Stab me with it. Practice."

My face twitched. I was rusty, but he did not get to tell me that.

"You aren't going to hurt me," he continued. "I think we both know who has the upper hand--"

I cut him off by lunging toward him with the scalpel.

He was right; I hadn't fought in years. A child could tell what I was about to do. He effortlessly dodged the blade and twisted my arm around myself.

One moment, he was in front of me.

The next, he was behind me.

His elbow locked around the front of my neck, preventing me from moving. He held the scalpel in front of my face.

"Dead," he hummed, into my ear. I scowled. He waved the blade in front of my vision, but just out of reach.

"Fuck you," I spat.

"Again," Karro instructed. He pushed the blade lazily toward my chest.

I was quick this time. He hadn't finished handing me the scalpel; I jerked it from his hand and thrust it toward his ribcage.

I was fast.

Karro was faster.

He was better than me. I hated that he was quicker than me.

He grabbed my wrist and twisted my arm until the scalpel pressed against my neck. I winced when the cold metal kissed my skin. It was not hard enough to split open my flesh, but it was close.

"Dead," he hummed. His lips slid upward.

"Okay, it's a stupid fucking nurse. You are a trained commander. There is a difference." My face heated. I was going to slit my own throat open if it meant avoiding failure again. I was so fucking weak.

"No. You don't know how their training advanced. What if she is the one behind this entire thing? She could be the Murthaa for all we know. A commander. Get a grip, sweetheart. Again."

He placed the scalpel in my hand.

Sweetheart. I scoffed at the odious word as I planned my attack.

Distraction always worked.

I kept my eyes on him. It ensured he had no idea where I was to attack. This time, I kicked toward his thigh. Hard. Immediately after, I thrust the tip of the scalpel toward his jugular.

My foot never made an impact.

Karro was fast, grabbing hold of my ankle before I could kick him. Both of my wrists were caught with his free hand. He twisted and contorted my arm until the blade touched my neck. Again.

"Dead." Karro grinned, too hard. "You were a commander?"

I smiled back. "I've been killing birds, not men, as of recently."

"You do well with eye contact. I never know where you are going to hit. But, you are hesitating right before you do." He stopped a cruel smiling tugging at his lips. "Why are you hesitating, Naga?"

I ground my teeth together. "Because I do not want to kill a good fuck before it happens. Again."

The room grew heavy after the word fuck left my mouth.

He passed me the scalpel.

I wasn't going to hesitate this time.

I couldn't. He would know he was right-- that there was a reason.

It was no longer Karro standing in front of me. I imagined it to be anyone else. For a moment, the nurse appeared in front of me. Then, the dead Murthaa. I ended up settling with the Doctors; the brutally murdered ones who had trained me to be such a good girl.

I jabbed my fist into the air above his shoulders. As expected, he caught the wrist; I wanted him to do this. It didn't matter.

I tossed the scalpel behind his head. My free hand caught it and pushed it into his throat.

With my restrained hand, I threaded my fingers through his hair. I jerked at his hair, forcing his head backward.

I pressed the blade harder into his throat.

I watched as the skin began to break. He hadn't held it this hard to my throat.

The outer layers of skin separated, revealing red meat. It continued to part as I pressed harder. Blood began to drip down his throat.

If I didn't pull away soon, I'd see fat. That would mean stitches. Infection.

My trembling hands tightened hard around the tool.

I wanted to kill them all. Every last person who ever stepped foot in The Blood.

I sucked in a breath and jerked my hand away. "Dead," I muttered.

Karro let go of my wrist. The tips of his fingers traced along the cut I'd left him. When he pulled away, his fingers were coated in blood. It flowed from the wound, but not at a concerning speed.

I huffed and collapsed onto the floor. I threw the scalpel across the room.

It had been over fifty years. They were dead. I wanted to kill them again, and again. I wanted to torture the doctors. I wanted to torture the Murthaa. I wanted to hurt everyone.

Karro joined beside me on the floor.

I zoned out on the scalpel a few feet away. It was coated in blood and a strand of skin.

"Who did you pretend I was?" Karro asked.

It terrified me how well he could read me. He knew me better than I knew myself-- even after all of this time.

"No one important."

Karro's hand moved to my knee. I gulped and looked down at his large hand. If I were to press my thighs tight together, his hand would take up the space of me. He was so big. Every aspect of him.

His thumb stroked a slow circle around my sweatpants.

I turned my head to face him. His hand slid up my thigh.

I looked down at the cut on his neck. I could have sliced his throat open. He'd practically given me the opportunity.

"I'd like to fuck you now."

I flinched, taken aback by his words. I looked away from the cut.

"Are you okay with that?" Karro continued.

If I didn't have respect for myself, I'd get on my knees and beg him.

I reached for the hem of my shirt. "I suppose."