Author's Note: This came to me in an attempt to get back into writing. I know it's short and doesn't explain much, however I may, in the future, use this in a longer, more plot-driven and explanatory piece. Hope you enjoy it feel free to leave me a review to let me know what you think.
She knows it's sometime in the middle of the day. Even though the room is dark, devoid of light, she knows. Perhaps it's the faint, dull rays fighting through the pinprick holes in the black painted windows that give it away ... or perhaps she's just been counting the hours she's been locked up. She doesn't know. Her senses aren't that finely tuned, however, she's had nothing better to do.
Staring into the dark nothingness, she closes her eyes. Or did she open them? There's little difference to be seen, or not seen. Whether her eyes are open or closed ... It's similarly dark either way. It doesn't matter.
A shadow passes outside the window cutting off her only source of light. There's someone out there. But who? Her captor? Her saviour? Death?
She feels a shiver run down her spine as though someone has just danced on her grave. The door swings open and a bright light illuminates the room blinding her momentarily, thwarting any means of escape. The blindness immobilizes her.
"They didn't come through for you," says a deep, scratchy voice and she wonders what he could possibly be alluding to.
Huddling against the cool, damp wall, she shudders as she hears the unmistakable sound of a knife being drawn from its scabbard. The footsteps are heavy on the concrete ground, but she can't make out which direction they're moving. Closing her eyes to shield them from the intrusive light, she prays to any deity willing to hear her pleas for a quick painless death. Only today, they're not listening.
With a sickening crunch, the blade is lodged into her chest; the bastard threw the knife at her with a well-practiced arm. She can feel her blood seeping from the wound, and, barely conscious, she hears another knife being unsheathed. There's no time for her to do anything this time. His arm is steady and his aim with a knife worthy of any championship title. It lands more solidly this time, right where he aimed. Between her eyes.
She died. And he walked away, leaving her body to decay, with no remorse.