A cruel, triumphant smile spread across Philip's face as he looked down at the man writhing beneath his boot. Eric grunted in pain, the pressure on his stomach wound a white-hot, blinding agony.
"Your leg…" Eric gasped, his voice a hoarse whisper. "How come your leg is…"
Philip interrupted him by applying more pressure, twisting his heel into the wound. "Why do you want to know?" he taunted, his voice a low, chilling drawl. "You're about to die so that information is useless."
A raw scream was torn from Eric's throat. The world narrowed to a pinprick of excruciating pain. He repeatedly, weakly, hit Philip's leg with his fists, but the blows had no force. His screams filled the eerie quiet of the woods, a desperate sound of pure suffering.
