fking-firecracker

      Battered and bruised. His arms quivered, exhaustion thrumming through the muscles as they twitched in little spastic jerks. He was on his knees and elbows, his forehead pressed to the ground as he tried to steady his breath. He could taste thick, coppery blood over his palette and it - along with the anxiety churning in his stomach - made him want to vomit.      His body hurt and he expected more pain to follow. He was surrounded and just one word from their leader would set them on him again like a frenzied pack of wild animals. He managed to brace his weight onto one of his hands, then the other, lifting his upper body and then his