An angry grunt came out when the knife at last plunged into his hand. The grip began to loosen and--no. No no, he wasn't letting this go. He would do it. He would kill. But he had to hurry before the pain in his hand became too much and he really did let go.

His other hand now came into play, intent on abruptly twisting the upper part of the boy's neck in the other direction. Like a little twig, snapping in two.