He feels the bones snap, the pain like hitting him with all the force of a train, sudden and overwhelming and despite himself he feels the tears lift to his eyes. It took everything he had to strangle down the instinctive cry that tried to tear itself from his lips.
He's done. He's dead. There's nothing left for him, but something in him wants to struggle anyway - defiant to the last.
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He's done. He's dead. There's nothing left for him, but something in him wants to struggle anyway - defiant to the last.
So he spits at her.