Day 98 Ruminating And Writing

Mercy

I heard it in her words, her kindness masking a hint of pity. She was being merciful. I shook off her words, her pity, and superiority. I would fight my way out of this as I had before. She didn’t need to look at me like I was dead meat. The minor injury to my wrist wouldn’t hold me back.

I clambered back up, letting my broken wrist hang beside me, switching the blade to my left hand.

“You don’t know how to give up,” she said.

“No, I guess not,” I let out.

“I let you walk aw...