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Namira
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Null sheen.
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
She connected, and then again.

The tiniest piece of her, beneath the focus and beneath the frustration, was just the littlest bit satisfied. Toby didn't really do the measuring up thing, but as one of the few members of her own weight class at club, she couldn't help wondering. How would she do against some of these guys in non-sparring, in not just rolling? Full contact just didn't happen in training—which made sense, it was just guys like Jerry taking things too seriously and then getting sat down.

So she'd speculated a bit. And honestly, she'd thought she could take Jerry, and here she was, taking it out right on his smug prick face-

The knife slid cleanly between her ribs.

It did not exit nearly so cleanly.

The blade tore out as she ripped herself backward, crying out in alarm and pain. Something ruptured and all the biology and school in the world couldn't tell her what it was over the burning agony in her chest. Her hands went to the wound, like that could staunch the flow—and maybe it could, maybe that would prevent the blood from pouring out, but it couldn't mend what had been punctured.

Toby's eyes, wide as saucers, fixed on Jerry.

She tried to think of some remark to spit at him.

She tried to think of what apology she could make.

She tried not to think of what would happen to her family without her.

Her mouth filled with blood as she fell to her knees, and then slumped to the side.


G028: TOBY ANDREASSON - DECEASED
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