He didn't hear the sound as the axe hit the floor, clumsy fingers no longer able to retain their grip.
It wasn't as though Rick was any stranger to pain. Shot, stabbed, beaten half to death - He'd brushed with his own mortality more times in the past few years than most did in their entire lifetimes. He'd already seen the end once, courtesy of the Capitol, and had been forced to come back and experience the cycle all over again; at least the last time, it had been quick and painless.
This time, the absence of that pain only made it all the more surreal; the shock had temporarily masked it, made him numb to the agony he knew he should have been feeling. He was vividly aware of the space occupied by the blade; he could feel everything, from the way the sword caught one of his ribs as it was jerked free to the heat of the blood that spilled forth in its wake. Too much blood, thick and dark against his stained jacket. The moment was somehow both quick and excruciatingly long, his mind racing with the adrenaline and yet not quite able to piece things together.
He opened his mouth, but the only sound he managed was choked by a mouthful of blood, unable to breathe as the air was ripped from his pierced lung. Dizziness hit him like a brick wall and he stumbled back a few paces, a hand pressed weakly to the wound; whether it was a futile attempt to stem the flow or just plain disbelief, even he wasn't sure.
no subject
It wasn't as though Rick was any stranger to pain. Shot, stabbed, beaten half to death - He'd brushed with his own mortality more times in the past few years than most did in their entire lifetimes. He'd already seen the end once, courtesy of the Capitol, and had been forced to come back and experience the cycle all over again; at least the last time, it had been quick and painless.
This time, the absence of that pain only made it all the more surreal; the shock had temporarily masked it, made him numb to the agony he knew he should have been feeling. He was vividly aware of the space occupied by the blade; he could feel everything, from the way the sword caught one of his ribs as it was jerked free to the heat of the blood that spilled forth in its wake. Too much blood, thick and dark against his stained jacket. The moment was somehow both quick and excruciatingly long, his mind racing with the adrenaline and yet not quite able to piece things together.
He opened his mouth, but the only sound he managed was choked by a mouthful of blood, unable to breathe as the air was ripped from his pierced lung. Dizziness hit him like a brick wall and he stumbled back a few paces, a hand pressed weakly to the wound; whether it was a futile attempt to stem the flow or just plain disbelief, even he wasn't sure.
... Was this how Shane had felt?