Rhory got even closer. She was getting worked up now, getting fucking pissed. Kimberly could feel it in the airflow against her ear, the tickling. Its savagery aside, it was almost pleasant. It carried memories from the past, and promises for the future. It told Kimberly she'd won. Whatever happened now, she'd fucked Rhory over good. Rhory was explaining her kill, all wrathful and indignant, just like Kimberly had asked.
And then she was slamming the barrel of the gun into Kimberly's neck. Kimberly coughed, her hand flinching towards her throat, her airway constricting for a couple of seconds as she struggled for breath.
Not like this.
Not fucking suffocation, dying flopping helplessly on the ground as the world slowly faded away.
Better something quick.
Better a gunshot.
Kimberly was able to force her lungs to start working again, to force her breath to come once more, though she was still in pain. Rhory was asking for specifics again. She was demanding details. She was threatening to kill Kimberly.
Strangely enough, this wasn't all that frightening. Everything else that had transpired here had been scary. It had carried elements of insanity and the unknown. Kimberly had been sure for a moment that she was about to star in their version's edition of that scene that had gone around last year, with a vase or something. She'd been terrified that Rhory was going to systematically humiliate and abuse her. But now, all she was up against was death, and she'd been dancing to that tune since she first caught a bullet from Kris' gun.
It was an unusual grace, but right now she'd take whatever she could.
And she finally stopped analyzing everything, stopped thinking, and just acted.
She coughed a couple of times. Forced her hand to her side. Didn't even bother trying to estimate Rhory's reflexes.
"Ah, Rhory," Kimberly monotoned. "I killed her"
And she ducked backwards, playing the worst game of limbo in the world with the gun, at the same time smashing Rhory in the gut with the palm of her hand. She didn't hear any weapon discharge, and she didn't die, either, so she quickly bobbed back into position and rammed the other girl with her shoulder, knocking her over. Kimberly fell on top of her, hearing the gun clatter to the side, landing hard, the pain jolting up her bad arm, but she didn't give a fuck. Right now, she had exactly one focus, and it was already sliding out of her boot and into position at Rhory's throat.
"with this knife. By the way, I fucking hate being called 'Kimmy'."