The wound was both painful and numbing. The blade had cut a perfect line across his forearm in appreciation of its well kept edge as he had tried to block it from his own throat. But now, the poison upon the blade was apparent as it ran it’s course mercilessly through his system.

He had lost his attacker only a few minutes ago by smashing a small garbage can against his head and running with what little strength he had left. In retrospect, maybe he should have grabbed the knife from his hands while he was stunned. Too late now.

Breathing was becoming very tiring and a little bothersome as he found himself sinking against his will onto the ground. The poison was fast. Maybe it didn’t matter that he had gotten away.