May's Struggle

May struggled to lift her head. Her swollen eyes and jaw ached from the repeated fists to the face. Blood dripped off her wrists as she moved them from side to side, trying desperately to loosen the rope.

"It's not going to work, you know?" John entered, smoking a joint. "You will never get them untied."

"We'll see about that?" May groaned.

Little did John know that May had loosened them significantly over the last two days. The tall, short, black-haired man suffered from two major defects: narcissism and pride, and those two things would be his downfall.

"So, are you ready to say it?" John said, circling May.

"Okay, okay," May took a hard breath. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I can't bare my ass to you when I tell you to kiss it because you have me tied to this damn chair."

"You think you're funny?"

John took a fist full of May's bloodied golden hair, pulled back her head, and hit her with a right cross. Blood spewed out of her mouth, and the aggravated man dropped May's head.

May silently snarled, still working on her writs. She gasped softly, realizing she had done it. Her hands were free. Action time.

"Hey," she let out a long breath, "I've been sitting here in this old, raggedy wooden chair wanting to ask you a serious question."

"Really? What's that?" John sniffed hard.

"I know you think you're the shit and all, and that me turning you down and calling you out for being a real fucking prick," she paused, "is means for this punishment you've been dealing out."

"I thought you had a question," John said, taking a knife from his pocket and flipping it open.

"I do. Here it is. This is all because you have a small dick, isn't it?" May said, raising her eyes to meet John's. "It's small. Come on, tell me the truth. It's like a tiny little tootsie roll, right?"

"Bitch."

John stomped forward, putting the blade to May's neck. The clever woman waited till it was right up to her skin, then swung her arm up and around, grasping her captor's wrist and twisting it back before punching it up and into his jaw.

John released his grip on the knife. As he pulled away from his victim, the knife slipped out, warm blood pouring down May's hand. John gasped to control the bleeding as May flipped the blade around in her hand, bent over, and cut her legs loose.

"NO!" John yelled, blood spurting out his mouth.

Leaping forward, he grasped May's ankle, causing her to fall face-first onto the ground. Rolling over, she screamed and, with every ounce of her strength, brought the blade forward, plunging it into John's chest over and over till his body stopped moving.