my favor than in that cramped cell.
Shiv raised, Kenton screamed and charged at me. Behind me were the stairs leading downward. In front of me was a throng of eager prisoners, parting to let my wild-eyed attacker through. I wiped the blood out of my eye and got ready. When he was about five feet away, Kenton tucked his shiv arm in close and hunkered down, then gave a bloodcurdling scream of delight and sprang at me. I jumped straight up in the air and watched him pass under me like a wretched, rabid freight train.
In midair he realized his mistake and craned his head upward to stare at me. Time stood still while our eyes met; I saw the fear in his. I’m not sure he saw the pity in mine. His arm arced up even as he began the long, painful tumble down the stairs and he gave one last, desperate stab with his shiv… just barely piercing my side. If I’d been hovering with wings, it would have stopped there, a mere scratch. Since I wasn’t, Gravity did her best to kill me by bringing me back down to earth—right on top of the shiv. I sank onto it as I landed, crying out as five or six inches of rough, filthy wood penetrated my side.
Then Kenton was an awkward, bony lump at the bottom of the stairs, and I was crouched on my bare feet at the top, blood still running from above my eye and now a fresh trail from my side.
Kenton’s raspy voice muttered weakly: “I killed her, I killed her, I killed her! Now I get coins, coins, coins!” He was jubilant, totally thrilled at the idea of getting paid in coins that—by the look of him—he wasn’t going to live long enough to spend.
Suddenly I felt like I was drowning. I stood up with difficulty as the crowd of prisoners came to gawk at Kenton. “Finish him off!” more than one voice cried. “Finish him!” “Kill him!” “Kill him!”
“No,” I said as I shook my head, pushing my way through the crowd. I wasn’t in a hurry to finish off that guy, even if he was responsible for the shiv sticking out of my side. I got out, feeling like I was about to faint. These poor inmates, prisoners at the end of the world, didn’t know who I was. They didn’t know how many people I had killed in my life. Actually, neither did I. Let’s say a lot. I was tired of killing. Also, I felt like I was about to die myself.
I made my way to a landing, a trail of blood behind me. Nobody followed me, since I’d made it clear I wasn’t going to be delivering any more violence. It was more entertaining to watch Kenton die in a heap.
I looked down at the broom handle sticking out of my side. It may have pierced my lung. I was guessing it had missed my heart, since I was still, you know, alive. But I had to make my way to the Infirmary, fast. “Okay, on three,” I muttered. “One… two—” and then I yanked the broom handle out, gasping with an almost blinding pain. The wood brushed against ribs as I pulled, tugging at my bones as if it wanted to pull them out with it. “Three. Oh… oh, holy shit,” I said weakly. “Oh, that sucked so bad.”
Amazingly, I had the presence of mind to keep the freaking shiv as I tiptoed down the stairs, past Kenton, down more stairs and more stairs, and now I was hugging the wall and stepping in my own blood. The chants of the inmates above me were fading, replaced by the rushing sound of my blood in my ears, the thumping of my heart. Was it getting slower?
I knew where the Infirmary was—we all did. Everyone here had survived beatings, attacks, near-starvation. They’d patch you up just enough to dump you back in your cell so you could live to fight another day.
I didn’t think I would make it. I was sure I was going to collapse here in the hallway and just… bleed out. Kenton would get his coins after all—or whoever ransacked his cell after he died would. But I kept telling myself, One more step, one more step, one more step…
Until I found myself in front of the swinging doors to the Infirmary. I pushed through, more like fell through, and then sank to my knees