Molly turned to face Morrissey, her jaw set. Her hand instinctively swept over her back, hitting a hard object. Without taking her eyes off her opponent, she grabbed it and pulled it out of her skin. She knew what it was without having to look; when Kai had forced her to the ground, she had landed on his blowgun dart. It wasn’t in deep, but she knew a fair amount of poison would have already made its way into her bloodstream. This had to be quick.
"You asked me to kill you once before, Morrissey. I didn’t think I could, so I didn’t. And now… you don’t want that anymore, and… well… I’m sorry. Because I didn’t think… I never thought it would come down to the two of us." Molly stepped forward, her lips pursed.
Morrissey made the next move, walking slowly towards the girl who was previously his ally.
"No. Kill me, Molly. You can win." Morrissey’s eyes filled with remorse, and he dropped to his knees. Tears rested in the corners of his eyes, and a soft smile formed, reassuring Molly.
Molly had been taken by surprise. She’d never thought it would be this easy, and he was just giving it up to her. Her mind cast back to when they’d pulled the stunt with the mistletoe berries, and her gut tightened with guilt. She regretted her actions, as whilst Morrissey was distracted, she’d left crushed leaves and berries from the plant soaking in his water bottle. Soon enough, he’d be experiencing the same pain felt by Kai. Molly took a knife, and held it to Morrissey’s neck.
"Are you ready?" she asked, and Morrissey nodded in response.
"One, two, thre-" at the last minute, Morrissey leapt away, leaving nothing more than a shallow gash down his chest from the knife. In doing so, he’d shifted, slamming his elbow into Molly’s face, causing her to fall to the ground again. The sick feeling growing inside Morrissey’s stomach, he put down to the guilt of having betrayed his opponent, unaware of Molly’s stunt with the mistletoe. He managed to choke back the sickness. Molly quickly rolled away and forced herself to her feet. She could feel the effects of the poison beginning, her vision blurring ever so slightly in the corners of her eyes.
"Ready to go?!" Molly laughed, almost impressed by Morrissey’s acting.
"Oh, I am," Morrissey replied, raising his knife into the air. Before he could bring it down, Molly had darted over to him, sinking her knife into his hip. He howled in the blinding pain, feeling fire rush through his veins. Despite being on the edge of death, he’d never felt more alive.
Morrissey staggered back, letting his arm fall limp before lunging forward, the blade of his knife swinging to her temple. His first swing missed, but the second struck and he could feel as it tore through layers of clothing and finally burst through her skin, slicing flesh. Blood briefly sprayed out of the gash before subsiding. Again Molly tried to sink her blade into her opponent’s skin, but Morrissey avoided the attack, grinning at the contrast of red on her pale, white skin. Distracted by the thought, Molly grasped the opportunity and sank her knife through his arm, down onto his collarbone, and across his torso. The mistletoe finally took effect and whilst screaming with pain, he erupted vomit over the arena floor too. He stepped back, taking in a long breath of the cold air, letting it revitalize his body, before launching himself at her in revenge, a battle cry echoing around the otherwise empty air of the arena, and dug his knife into Molly’s shoulder, slicing her all the way to her hip. He laughed manically and lunged again, but his boot slipped and he tumbled to the ground. A sickening crack shot out from deep inside his leg, and he howled in pain once again.
Standing over him, Molly smirked. She had the advantage once again. She stumbled over to the injured boy panting lightly on the ground, and lowered herself over him.
“Morrissey," she said calmly. Morrissey’s vision was distant, his hand fumbling to find Molly’s, pulling her close when it did so. The warmth of her embrace was all her needed, a warmth so distant yet so familiar. He buried his face in the crook of her shoulder as tears began to fall from his blue eyes. He tried to speak, but he was bleeding out of his hip wound as much as Molly was from her torso wound.
"I’m…" Morrissey spoke quietly, his words full of pain, “I’m sorry, Molly." Molly’s shoulders tensed, realizing what was happening, but it was too late. Morrissey had brought his knife up to her neck, his other hand holding her body in place. She swallowed nervously, her eyes jolting around trying to figure out an escape. Almost immediately, Morrissey dragged his knife across her throat, forcing apart the skin as Molly screamed loudly. He continued to hold her in place despite her struggles, his eyes never leaving hers. He sliced again and again, blood spraying over his face, over the ground. Molly’s screams were muffled now, lost in the cascade of blood, her body barely managing to squirm as the red liquid poured from her neck. Finally, the screaming stopped, and her head left a trail of blood on the ground as it rolled away from her body.
A cannon fired, but Morrissey Harper did not hear it. Nor did he see as the silver hovercraft gently soared overhead. The only thing his eyes could see was the pain in those of his final kill. The pleading, the agony, the sorrow, and, he hoped, the forgiveness. Like an old friend, darkness outreached his hand and he took it, falling into the soft embrace of unconsciousness.
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