sticks and stones: your muse tortures mine for information.
“You fucker,” she hissed at him, throwing him a baleful look over her shoulder as she continued to try and limp away from him, leaving a trail of blood behind her.
It had been fun for awhile, watching her run blindly through the maze of a warehouse, hearing her curse as she reached yet another dead end only to backtrack all over again. That is, until she’d found a long abandoned wrench and attempted to surprise him with it.
He’d dealt with her easily enough, shooting out her knee as she took her last ditch swing at him.
She wouldn’t die from her wound, not that she knew any better as her pained cries echoed all around them.
“You get off on this,” she accused, defiance clear in her eyes as she turned around to face him, finally reaching the end of the stack.
He simply smirked at her outrage, sidestepping a puddle of her blood as he stood a few feet away from her.
"You sick fuck, you like leaving a mess behind don't you," she stumbled back a step as she continued to hurl her accusations, back literally pressed to the wall behind her.
Still Jongsuk said nothing, appraising her quietly as she slid down to the floor, clutching her bloodied knee.
“Are you gonna give me a cheshire smile too, Hoon?,” she taunted, playing her last card as she stared up at him.
But all it took was one glance up at him before that fearless smiles of hers faltered, catching sight of Jongsuk’s expression -- all emotion ebbing away from his features until all that was left was the cold, piercing gaze that rooted her to the floor.
“My, my. It seems you dug a little deeper that I thought you had.”