Connor Flashblack
He gets a hand out of my grip and slices down at me in a wild, frantic movement. It slices through the skin over my ribs and warm, red liquid forms beads and teardrops as it trails down my side and to my back. But I'm almost positive he didn't get me deep enough to leave a bad scar, as I’m sure he’s hoping he managed. Quite a few people, actually, would do anything for the chance to accomplish what only Darren has ever pulled off. Would die for the bragging rights over how they got over on the Reaper, maybe brag that they were faster and stronger. Even better if they surpassed what Darren had done by doing worse to me. Or killing me. But, unfortunately for this guy, it probably won’t even be noticeable after a while.
When he moves to either cut or stab me again, my han
