Opportunity | Tristitia v Experiment 622

My blade strikes a scratch on the creature but it is nothing in the long run. I turn to yell at Georgina to run but she's gone. The only thing I see is mud.

At least she's safe. Or at least I hope she's safe.

There's is a low noise I can feel in my bones. I turn back to the creature to see something spit out of it. Since when did muttations shoot things??

I dive to the side as the projectile sticks itself in the soft ground where I had been standing. There's another launch noise and I'm too slow. It rips across my stomach slicing open my shirt and drawing a deep line of red. It stings like a thousand paper cuts all at once. If it had been a bit deeper I'd be done.

I struggle to my feet. The creature still sits in the river. It's too big and I don't want to get any closer. I think of the things in my bag. I have nothing to throw. Nothing that will hurt anyway. I could throw a mosquito net but I doubt it'll do much.

Panic rises in my throat and my body is moving faster than my mind. I take my only weapon and I throw it.

My knife sails through the air and plunges into the river.

Fuck.

The creature rears back again shooting another round of sharp objects at me. I stand up in time to miss one aimed at my head but still catch one in the leg. I grit my teeth, struggling to stay on my feet as the pain rippled through my body. I look down at the blood seeping down into my boots. Wet socks. Gross.

I see the object next to me. It's stiff and a little longer than the entire length of my knife. It's end is sharpened- by a tool or the mutt's body I'm unsure. I pick it up, testing its weight in my hand. It's an awkward length but it's all I have left.

"Hey! You dropped this you ugly piece of shit!"

I pull my arm back and toss it forward as hard I can. It feels like a drop in an ocean. One little needle poking a bear. But even enough pokes can bring down a beast.

The creatures admires the cut I was able to carve on its back. Then it's mouth opens and a low guttural noise escapes its body. It's laughing.

I thought I didn't have any jokes left but I guess I still have one.

I spits out splinters at me again but this time I'm ready. I jump out of the way as they stick into the mud. I go to grab both of them but the one in my left hand falls back into the mud. Oh right. No thumb. It's too heavy to pinch between my fingers and palm. I shove the one I have in my hand under my arm and take the one in the ground in my right hand. With two arrows in the chamber I step forward, wiggling the object at the mutt.

No one is around. It's just me and this mutt. It must be by design. Georgina wouldn't have just left me...

I don't think they're setting me up for a grand victory over the creature.

I look at my hand, at the ring carved by knowing hands back in district Five by someone I'll never see again. Longs don't have much courage. Head downs, tongue held. But a Lyon?

A Lyon can roar.

My luck is running out. The creature fires again and this time both find home. The first one ripping through my cheek and the other lodging itself in my leg.

I touch my fingers to my cheek. It'll scar. For a moment I'm looking forward to that moment- to looking in the mirror back home and admiring the new rougher version of my face. But the blood drips down my cheek and rolls down my neck leaving it sticky and warm and I know it won't have a chance to scar.

I wish Georgina was here. I wish someone was here. When the others died we were nearby. We watched them, we fought with them. But this is so lonely.

Dread slides up my throat and I push it down. There is no use feeling sorry for myself- especially if no one is nearby to hear it.

I pull the other mutt arrow from under my arm, testings its weight, and look up at the mutt.

I ready my shot and the only thought that runs through my head is at least it is me.

It slams into my stomach, the arrow still sticking out of my gut. It pushed the air from my chest and I can't seem to suck it back in. Just desperate gasps for air. I look down at the blood seeping out of the wound. I can feel something thick rising in my throat and a flood of iron on my tongue. It dribbles out of my mouth, falling in long strings towards the ground as I struggle to take another breath.

At least it was me.

At least the twins are at home. At least Georgina is far away from here.

I'm on my knees and I didn't even realize it, my knees sinking into the wet ground. I finally catch some air and it hurts. It catches in the blood in my throat and chokes. I cough and the arrow in my gut rips further into me. I spit blood onto the ground, a hand holding the object still to keep it from knocking my organs around.

I thought it'd be quick. I thought I'd get a hammer to the skull or a blade to the neck. so many deaths are shocking and quick. Alive one minute and gone the next. But this is slow and lonely.

I wish Georgina was here.

I take in air even as it burns. I reach for an arrow nearby but stop. It hurts too much to move. It hurts too much to throw a toothpick at a monster. Instead I tear my backpack off my shoulder. I pour all of its contents on the ground, shaking out all of them. I reach a hand through the pile, grabbing the headband with the cat ears on it. I shove it on my head, crooked and covered in blood. I pick up the grill and shove it into my mouth. It slips onto my teeth but whatever sparkling design is on it is now covered in crimson.

I look up at the creature. It's obscured by black dots floating around, growing larger and larger.

I smile.

"You missed a spot."