Tomas, pt. 13

((OOC Note: Dreams and decriptive entires are entered in italics))

He had watched from the shadows as the two large figures held the man. They pulled him to his feet, his face already beginning to swell under the bruises until one eye was pressed tightly shut, his lips split and bleeding. A third man swung the club again and the sharp crack of a rib was followed by a gurgle and a whimper.

A dark smile twisted the corner of his mouth as he heard another blow land. They had done this to him. It was only fitting to return the favor. The tall one stepped back, hands shaking from the rush of adrenaline. The club hung at his side and he surveyed the damage.

“I doubt he’ll try that again.” The two let the beaten man sag to his knees. His breath was short, sobs cut off in the sharp pain. “We’re done here.”

Done? How can they consider this done? Anger flashed hot, threatening to consume him with its flame. It will never be done!

He stepped from the shadows. The two men turned to face him, eyes wide with surprise. Still holding up the beaten man by the arm one spoke with a hesitant voice. “Tomas? What are you…?”

Not waiting for the question to finish he strode forward with purpose. With one hand he grabbed the hair of the beaten man and pulled his head back. Fear showed in the one eye looking up at him. Bloody lips trembled as if to form a plea. His other hand, holding a knife went to the man’s throat. There was a sharp intake of breath as the metal touched skin and for an instant no one moved. Their eyes locked and the fire inside him burned white. A quick pull and the blade opened the man’s neck, blood flowed, almost black in the alley’s dim light. The eye that showed such fear rolled back, lifeless.

He let go of the fistful of hair and the man’s head lolled to the side. The two men holding the arms stared at him, jaws slack.

“Now it is done.”

He wiped the blade on his shirt and looked to the others. All eyes followed his movement as they would a deadly viper. Eyes that darted between him and the nearest escape. One by one they shook their heads and backed away.

“No…” Her voice cut through the murmurs of the others. “What have you done?”

He held out a hand, beckoning, and she took a step back. “Swift.” His voice was calm, and he motioned her closer again. She took another step back and the confusion in her eyes turned to fear and pain. She hesitated just a moment more, mouthing “no”, then turned and fled into the night. “Swift!” He called after her, but the others broke their frozen stance and followed on her heals. The two men were gone; the body slumped at his feet. He stood alone in the night as the rain began to fall. “…Swift.” His voice was lost, and he slid into the shadows again.

Waking in a cold sweat, Tomas pulls off the ragged blanket. He’d find no comfort in sleep tonight. Gathering his pack he sets off into the warm summer’s night.


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