They tried. I wondered, briefly, how many people they’d done this to. How many times they’d taken what they’d wanted without caring about the repercussions. I told myself I was doing a good thing, teaching them a lesson so they’d never fuck with anyone else.
And maybe part of that was true.
A small part.
Because the rest of me wanted to hurt them. So I did.
I saved the man with the tattoo for last.
Arms wrapped around me, pulling me back against a strong chest as another one came in swinging. I kicked my feet off the ground, slamming them against his stomach. He bent over, eyes bulging, arms crossed. His mouth opened soundlessly, a thin line of spit hanging from his bottom lip.
I tilted my head forward before bringing it back sharply, hitting the man who held me square in the face. Bone and cartilage broke. Blood sprayed on the back of my neck as he grunted, dropping his arms.
The third man reached down and scooped up gravel and dirt, throwing it in my face as he rushed toward me. My vision blurred as I moved to the right, his fist glancing off my shoulder. I elbowed him in the throat, and he gagged, hands at his neck.
The tattooed man narrowed his eyes but stood just out of reach.
That was fine. His time would come.
The man with the broken nose threw a clumsy punch. I grabbed his arm, spun around on my heels, and threw him into the side of a parked car. He fell to the ground face-first and didn’t get back up.
“Don’t kill them,” Kelly said.
“I won’t,” I promised him.
The first guy had started sucking in air again, still bent over, and he went down hard when I kicked him in the side of the head.
The smart man raised his hands in front of him as if that would stop me.
I knocked them to the side.
I grinned at him. “You should run.”
He didn’t.
“Okay,” I said, grabbing him by the shoulders. I kneed him in the stomach. He collapsed, wheezing, wet eyes blinking rapidly.
“Here!” I heard a man yell.
I turned to see another man toss my attacker a wooden baseball bat. He caught it deftly and laid it against his shoulder. He spat on the ground, never looking away from me.
I shook my head. “That’s not going to help you.”
He came for me, bat raised.
He brought it down where I’d been standing. It bounced off the ground as I pressed against him, spinning around him until I was at his back. He turned his head just as I reached over his shoulder, grabbed the bat, and ripped it from his hands. I threw it to the side.
“You should have told me your name,” I whispered in his ear.
I was distracted.
I didn’t see him reach into his pocket.
I heard a click.
A metallic whisper I recognized from how things used to be.
Tanner and Chris with their knives. From when they were human, breakable and soft.