Ellie
Strong arms linked around mine from behind, and I stiffened. My body lifted from the ground, the world blurring when my captor spun me to face the other direction. Orion met me, and by the stench of home-grown tobacco wafting off of my captor, my cousin Nevin held me captive.
“Come one, Ellie. Just give up. You can’t win with the two of us against you.”
He grunted with the effort it took to keep my struggling body in his grasp.
A flash of lightning light the sky above, illuminating Orion and the blade he held away from his body.
My mind froze at the glint of that cold steel. I wanted to reach out to Tristan, ask for his help, but then he’d know just how much danger I was in.
If you die tonight, you know he’ll bathe these hills and the farm in rivers of the family’s blood. Then there’s the risk Evanee and Brad will follow him. You know they’ll be right behind him, sharpening whatever weapon they can get their hands on. You risk losing them and possibly Ronan and Pa during their three-person war.
The world sped up as though someone hit fast forward, and I scrambled to remember Brad’s many drills and training sessions. With each memory I pulled up and disregarded, Orion stepped closer.
The banshee within me screeched in happiness at my fear and her imminent release from the prison that was my body.
At last, a memory flashed through my mind. With as little movement as possible, I slid my right foot back. At the last second, I pushed my upper body forward, sliding my left arm from Nevin’s grip when his hands failed to hold me. The skin on my left arm burned from the friction of the material of his jacket against my bare arms.
Ahead of me, Orion cursed, and I caught the flash of his blade when the next fork of lightning spread across the sky. A sharp sting followed by a fiery burn radiated from my exposed side, but I dared not stop, knowing what was at stake. I dove forward, jerking my right arm, still trapped in Nevin’s grip, up. I twisted to grip behind his knees, lifting his right leg to throw him off balance.
When he caught at the loose strands of my hair, dragging me down with him, I cursed.
And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why you don’t wear your hair down when your family is hell-bent on murdering you.
I tucked into a roll, crying out when I came out of the somersault, and my head snapped back. I reached back to grab hold of the strands still in Nevin’s grasp and pulled hard. Some strands ripped from my skull, and I screeched in pain. With another hard pull, the rest came free, but I’d lost precious seconds I didn’t have.
Orion towered over me. Both hands gripping his military knife, he reared back before he plunged the blade down toward my gut. The rain had stopped at some stage during the fight, but the land was still a field of sludge. I twisted hard, my momentum catching Orion by surprise. He slid out thanks to the mud-clogged tread of his boots. Once again, searing pain exploded from the side of my body, and I twisted to find he’d lodged his blade.
“Mother fucker,” I screamed, anger fuelling the adrenaline pumping through my veins.
With a simultaneous grunt and whimper, I ripped the blade from my side, then rolled onto my back, reaching over to plunge the knife into Orion’s gut.
He bellowed, and I grunted as I got to my feet, ready to take on Nevin, who knelt panting behind Nevin’s head.
“My sentiments exactly,” I spat.
A rock caught my attention while I hunched over in pain.
“You’ll do,” I grumbled, reaching to pick it up.
With a long groan, I straightened, slipping and sliding to where Nevin was trying and failing to climb to his feet.
His head lifted, anger reddening his pale face. “You know it’ll never stop. It’s only the beginning.”
“Keep it coming, jackass. I’ll put every one of you in the hospital like I have tonight.”
He gaped at me, and I gave him my best shit-eating grin as I brought the rock down, connecting with the side of his head.
His body went limp before it slumped over. - T.S. Petersen.
This work belongs to Author T.S. Petersen. (Copyright 2021)
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