Blood & Bones

I couldn’t see straight. The right side of my face was still throbbing from that last backhanded slap. I mean, who even slaps like that anymore? The pain made me feel a bit like a sissy, and nothing gets me angrier than being made to feel like a weak little woman, who could burst into tears at the drop of a hat. That’s right, my eyes were only stinging because of the pain. Take that, Superman.

(image source: desktopnexus)


Now that I’ve proven myself to be the equal of any chauvinist superhero, let’s get back to the matter at hand. The gash on my forehead just wouldn’t stop bleeding. I mean, it’s not like I’m made of blood you know. Or maybe I am, I don’t know. All I do know is that if it doesn’t stop right now, I was going to be as dry as a mummy, without all the embalming goo and bandages - fashionistas they are not. My flimsy little scarf was soaked through with my own metallic-smelling fluids, and my right hand was aching with all the pressure I was putting on the wound.

(image source: flickr - Sarah the pirate)

Whining aside, I knew I had to keep going; I had to keep running until my lungs collapsed or I busted a kneecap. Even as I felt my twisted ankle give way that was the one thing I kept repeating to myself. I twisted mid-fall to avoid landing on my bad leg and ended up slamming onto my side. My skull hit the slimy ground with impressive force, hard enough to keep most people down. But I was not most people. Remind me to get into that later.

If there was one word you could use to describe me, it would be determined – determined not to get caught and become that...thing’s next meal. I tried to haul myself up but I could feel every bone creaking, every muscle protesting, and all I wanted to do was stay down. Great! There were probably a million freaking things broken inside...like I didn’t have a long list of dysfunctional joints already. I rolled my eyes – even that hurt like a bitch – and realized that if I could see the humour in this situation, I might just live to see another hour. You’ve got to hand it to me – I’m not naive enough to hope for another day. Lady luck and I have long-standing issues.

(image source: bankruptmag)