Beneath the hiss of the rain and rumble of thunder, my breathing was harsh and loud and bubbling. Not good. Must have punctured a lung. I was three stab wounds, a blow to the head, and an explosion from where we started, and now I was on my back in the mud with a knife at my throat. Great. Just great. And now he was going to make some villainous comment or other, to stay in character. The bastard had to start getting wordy and trite now, of course. He couldn't just kill me and be done with it, no, that'd be to easy.

Good thing for me he had such a flair for the dramatic, otherwise my plan would never have worked.

"In the end, the only people who really matter in your life are your mother," that silky smooth voice mocked, "and your murderer."

I smiled. "I don't have a mother, bitch." His eyes widened. My arm flew up, and I could feel that knife dig into my throat deep enough to draw blood. Then he tipped backwards with a sick sort of gurgle, clutching at his left eye. It had sprouted a shard of glass when he wasn't looking.

I kicked the bastard off my legs and got to my feet without falling over. I'd been carrying that shard of glass in my ribs since our little duel began and it hurt like a bitch to have it out- but it was worth it to finally see him dead.

"I don't have a mother," I repeated to his corpse. "So I guess that means nobody matters to me."

I didn't need to tell him I was the only one who'd ever really mattered to him; he wouldn't hear me, and besides, we both already knew it. We'd both known it for a very long time.

Footsteps sounded, high and sharp, behind me. I knew who it was before I turned around and saw her standing where the road ended in her high heels and short skirt. She might have looked sad. I didn't really give a damn.

"You," I pointed a very unsteady finger at her, "have a lot of explaining to do." She might have been smiling when I fell over from blood loss. I didn't really give a damn about that, either.
--------------------------

Blaming this entirely on The Very Model of a Man. Stupid Cain and his stupid rationalization. Ugh. Brotherly love, indeed. Need to finish that book but it leaves me feeling deeply disturbed every time I turn the page.

No idea who they are, what they did, why they tried to kill each other...I know the narrator's an orphan, originally he was supposed to say a little more, keep the drama going, that sort of thing, but then he switched into first person and it all seemed kinda moot. Maybe that's his name.

Maybe it isn't. Moot.