on her and could fight back.
He hit her again, weaker this time, but it staggered her, nonetheless. Her face felt like it was on fire. She felt lightheaded.
Another fist slammed into her stomach and she doubled over. The doctor staggered back then, the blood seeping from the many wounds in his stomach. He sucked in a breath, looked from his stomach to her, and sneered at her. “You fucking bitch! You fucking whore!” He pushed her, not hard—he seemed weakened by the blood loss already—but enough to stagger toward the mouth of the alley, hands to his gut. “Help!” he called out, though it was snuffed out by a grimace. “Help,” he grunted, staggering still, closer and closer. “This bitch stabbed me!” He doubled over and hacked, blood and saliva splattering against the pavement.
Orion knew, with chilling certainty, this was her moment. If he made it to the entrance, if he was able to call for help, it would all be over. Her life, her freedom, her quest.
He would stumble into the lights, covered in blood. He would be saved by a passing car or some other drunk heathen stumbling his way from the strip club to the parking lot, because that was what happened to people like him. They got saved. And she would be caught because that’s what happened to people like her.
It was close. She grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking him backward at the same time as she sank the knife into his spinal cord.
No matter what it seemed like in the movies, stabbing someone wasn’t easy. Bone, muscle, flesh, it didn’t want metal to tear through it. Something fought back. Whether it was something in the body, something instinctive, the flesh itself, or the soul, something didn’t want to die.
It took all of Orion’s strength to yank the blade from his back while keeping a firm grip—he was still struggling now, but not as viciously—and drag him back into the shadows. He was heavy. Heavier than she thought he would be. The term dead weight made sense to her now. It was like hauling bricks. Her arms and shoulders screamed. Maybe it was the weight of his sins, or her own, but she was strong enough to drag him back. Stubborn enough. Scared enough.
That was the overpowering emotion. Orion was so damn terrified, she tasted her own bile in her mouth. Her bowels turned watery, and her bladder cried out for release. She had gotten herself into something, into bone, flesh, and blood. It was everything that she had promised herself it wouldn’t be. Messy, quick, amateur.
He was on the ground now, his back to the wall. It was stained with blood. He wasn’t dead yet. He was making sounds. Wet, coughing sounds. Trying to talk. One arm weakly raised toward her, trying to fight or begging for help, Orion wasn’t sure which.
“You’re her,” he grunted, blood lining his lips, pooling on his soiled shirt. He forced a smile, the blood smeared across his teeth. “You’re that little cunt . . .” He coughed, more blood, more saliva, and then wheezed.
She stared at him, cocked her head, smiled back.
He looked confused, but only for a moment. The confusion was replaced with frantic pleas as she unbuttoned and unzipped his pants.
“Wh-what are you doing?” he muttered, his voice rasped, the blood really pooling in his mouth now.
She pulled his flaccid cock from his pants, and in one swift movement, she severed it with the knife.
He gurgled out a scream, but she silenced him by stuffing the detached appendage in his mouth, and then ramming the blade of the knife into his neck.
As the life drained from his eyes, she held on to the vomit crawling up her throat because she could not leave DNA at the crime scene, and she could not let the death of this scum have such an impact on her.
Orion had planned on saying so many things to him. She had planned on taking it slow. She had planned on him seeing her as the monster. But there was no time for that. Her mouth was stuck shut, unable to utter a fucking word. So, she just stared at him blankly, the bloody stump of his penis showing between his lips, until he died.
Then she wiped the knife on her jeans, flipped it closed, and pocketed it. She walked to the mouth of the alley slowly, peeking around the corner. She saw no one. The other direction was clear as well.
With