What.
What?
No way.
The kick did nothing. Absolutely nothing. It was like flicking a toothpick at a giant. Micah had her pinned down, his fist raised high in the air, on its way to deliver a punch with massive force.
No.
No.
This wasn't happening.
Lara breathed in deep and raised her arms in defense as she tried to think of some way out of this predicament. If she didn't think of something soon, she would be wishing that her wounded pride was the only injury she sustained.
Come on, Lara, your test is now. Think. Think!
One Room
Open
Micah threw a punch down.
Then another.
Then another.
Then another.
Then one last one.
He wasn't even thinking about where he was aiming or how his hand was starting to hurt from the repeated hits.
He gritted his teeth the entire time, his face turning redder than an apple. Once he was done throwing punches, he grabbed the injured girl by her collar. He got up, throwing her against the wall.
"I should have let Danielle in," he hissed. "Let the bastard take you instead."
He tightened his grip on her collar.
"Now, time for you to leave."
Then another.
Then another.
Then another.
Then one last one.
He wasn't even thinking about where he was aiming or how his hand was starting to hurt from the repeated hits.
He gritted his teeth the entire time, his face turning redder than an apple. Once he was done throwing punches, he grabbed the injured girl by her collar. He got up, throwing her against the wall.
"I should have let Danielle in," he hissed. "Let the bastard take you instead."
He tightened his grip on her collar.
"Now, time for you to leave."
One punch.
It felt like getting smashed with a bowling ball.
Second punch.
She dared to open one of her eyes. Her left arm looked purple.
Third punch.
Lara had to lower her left arm. She felt like it was going to snap.
Fourth punch.
That one sent her for a loop. Her cheek was slammed by the powerful force, only for it to connect with her teeth on the other side. The warm, coppery taste of blood spread throughout her mouth as the red liquid flowed from the wound.
Fifth punch.
Just before it landed, she threw her left arm back into the mix, shielding her face from another hit. The impact, the hundreds of pounds of force coursing through her nerves like lightning up to her brain, almost made her scream. Almost. She contained it in a pained grunt, not wanting to let it show that it hurt. She had some pride still intact.
She braced her arm again for another impact, unsure of how much it could take, before she found herself being lifted to her feet via her neck. Almost as soon as that sensation was over, her back was thrown into the hard wall, earning another grunt out of her. When her bag slipped from her shoulder and she almost dropped it, she caught it with her left arm.
Lara almost dropped it again.
The feeling of the slick blood filling her mouth became unbearable. Taking a final look at Micah, she collected all of the blood in her mouth and hocked it on the floor near him. Breaking his grip on her collar, she walked away, trying to keep herself steady as she did so.
When she got to the doorknob, the thing turned as if there was no resistance whatsoever. It just gave in, like it was waiting for the scene to play out before it decided to move. Before she could stop herself, she giggled. She giggled at the absurdity of everything, of how miserably she had failed.
By the time she was roughing it through the snow, she couldn't stop herself from laughing.
It felt like getting smashed with a bowling ball.
Second punch.
She dared to open one of her eyes. Her left arm looked purple.
Third punch.
Lara had to lower her left arm. She felt like it was going to snap.
Fourth punch.
That one sent her for a loop. Her cheek was slammed by the powerful force, only for it to connect with her teeth on the other side. The warm, coppery taste of blood spread throughout her mouth as the red liquid flowed from the wound.
Fifth punch.
Just before it landed, she threw her left arm back into the mix, shielding her face from another hit. The impact, the hundreds of pounds of force coursing through her nerves like lightning up to her brain, almost made her scream. Almost. She contained it in a pained grunt, not wanting to let it show that it hurt. She had some pride still intact.
She braced her arm again for another impact, unsure of how much it could take, before she found herself being lifted to her feet via her neck. Almost as soon as that sensation was over, her back was thrown into the hard wall, earning another grunt out of her. When her bag slipped from her shoulder and she almost dropped it, she caught it with her left arm.
Lara almost dropped it again.
The feeling of the slick blood filling her mouth became unbearable. Taking a final look at Micah, she collected all of the blood in her mouth and hocked it on the floor near him. Breaking his grip on her collar, she walked away, trying to keep herself steady as she did so.
When she got to the doorknob, the thing turned as if there was no resistance whatsoever. It just gave in, like it was waiting for the scene to play out before it decided to move. Before she could stop herself, she giggled. She giggled at the absurdity of everything, of how miserably she had failed.
By the time she was roughing it through the snow, she couldn't stop herself from laughing.
Micah was a bit pleased when Lara let herself out. He had wanted to drag her out the door and throw her into the snow. At least then he'd have her stuff as payment for the attempted theft. But she simply spat blood on the floor and walked out.
Once she was gone, Micah quickly blocked the door again with the desk. He then walked back over to his chair and slumped over in his seat. He let out a long sigh and stared at the floor.
That's when he noticed some pain eminating from his hand. He looked at his knuckles, which were already bleeding a bit.
"Fuck, of course," he muttered.
Micah dragged over his bag and began to look for the first aid kit. The injuries weren't that bad, but any injury could be fatal, and losing his cool like that meant he was going to have one weaker hand.
He quietly worked on bandaging his hand. Maybe now he could actually enjoy some peace.
((Micah Flanagan continued All the Flowers Are Gone))
Once she was gone, Micah quickly blocked the door again with the desk. He then walked back over to his chair and slumped over in his seat. He let out a long sigh and stared at the floor.
That's when he noticed some pain eminating from his hand. He looked at his knuckles, which were already bleeding a bit.
"Fuck, of course," he muttered.
Micah dragged over his bag and began to look for the first aid kit. The injuries weren't that bad, but any injury could be fatal, and losing his cool like that meant he was going to have one weaker hand.
He quietly worked on bandaging his hand. Maybe now he could actually enjoy some peace.
((Micah Flanagan continued All the Flowers Are Gone))