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Mr. Danya
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Like a wounded, tired bull, Sandy didn’t pay much attention to what Nancy might’ve actually been doing as he charged her. He didn’t brace himself for a retaliation, or anticipate that she might’ve moved, or anything that might’ve saved his life. All he did was charge.

He screamed in unison with her as the distance between them drew to none, reaching out to grab something but ultimately doing nothing, as the tip of the screwdriver hit its mark and hit him square in the eye.

There was a sickeningly short combination of sounds: the cracking as the lens of his glasses shattered, followed by the sickly squirt of his eyeball popping, ultimately leading to the piercing of his brain like a steak-knife into a hunk of meat. There wasn’t really any time to react to any of it.

There was a moment before he fell, as if he might’ve still been holding on, before he finally dropped to the floor with a lifeless thud. He convulsed once, then went still.

And that was the end of it.

B025: Sanford Bricks - Deceased
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