Time to Try

Minutes later he was looking around a kitchen, black and silver ever last bit of it. He struggled, he felt his body yet had no control. His eyes scanned quickly before setting on a smug looking Bexii. He opened his mouth, closing it as she held up a finger. "Shh honey, I'll have none of it. I only kept you alive long enough to tell you how foolish you are. You know, you had potential, really you did. The cold psychopath, simply too cliche though, it could never have lasted." She sighed a sad sigh, pretend pouted before she laughed, colder than he'd heard a laugh. "You made two mistakes sweetie." She stepped closer to him kneeling before him. "First" She actually held up a finger stroking his nose with it "You fell in love with me. Second" A second finger, this one on his lips "You were too obvious." Now she pulled out the gun he'd stuffed in his belt and the two knives from his pocket. He closed his eyes briefly, a prayer muttered in his brain. She stood and turned taking two steps before turning back. "Oh, I almost forgot." She pulled a syrnge from her boot. "Yes I have no idea what's in here" Her voice hushed to a whisper, as though she were a school girl telling a secret "but I bet its fun."
His eyes fixed on the plastic tube, his mind screamed: Damnit, oh damnit. Now he wanted to run, if only his legs would work.
She noticed the fear and stepped close taking his cheek into her hand she stroked. "Shhh sweetheart." Her tone the same as if she had been speaking to a three year old child.
"You'd make a mistake in killing me now."
"Oh?"
"Bexii-"
She laughed as he used that name, brushing her black hair behind her ear with a long and delicate finger. "Honey, no." He raised a confused eyebrow. "Bexii was just a cover, truly wonderful huh? Call me Fayth, with a Y."
Great he thought, even the real you is illiterate. He'd hoped for better. Shame really.
"Fine Fayth. You'd lose a lot in killing me now."
"Why so?"
"There's so much you don't know."
"About?"
"What will happen to you when I'm dead."
"Oh pulease." Like an impatient teenager. "I know well, you think I havent researched you? I could write your autobiography better than you could."
Biography he thought, if you were writing it it would be my biography. He didn't say it instead settled for a sigh, had he been able to a shrug would have been added. She stepped closer, his eyes fixed on her. She flicked up the blade of his knife, examining it closely. She held it lightly against his skin, he could feel the cold, he winced. Something abnormal then happened, his survival instinct kicked in, in something of a panicked attempt to extend his life he spoke again.
"Pete-"
"What?" A small amount of anger.
"He lied to you."
"I know."
"No, you don't."
"He was a drug dealer and not a legitimate businessman, so what, render me shocked."
"A drug dealer?" Lyndon genuinely laughed at that, saying words through forced breaths. "No, he really isn't."
"Huh?" She stepped back.
"Oh? Yeah, and his names not Pete."
"Tell me more." An order.
"No."
"What?"
"I wont."
She picked up on his game, it was obvious. She simply smiled and stepped back, leaning gently on the counter behind her. "Oh Lyndon, you think I'm a fool? You're wrong. You're going to tell me so why not be smart and simply stop yourself from feeling the pain huh?"
Damn survival instinct. He refused. She nodded and looked at the knife tilting the blade from side to side, the light shining off it. Her mind thought of the other night, how they had touched, how good he had felt on her, the moments they'd shared, her eyes closed involuntarily. She spoke, her voice a whisper. "I wanted to tell you, the other night, I meant it, you were amazing. Truly lover you were." She then moved with speed, throwing the knife it his his leg, the left side a little above the knee, the agonising scream didn't make her flinch, the blood didn't make her feel sick. She was playing the master at his own game, she was winning and enjoying it.
"Lyndon, sweetheart" Her tone was calm, controlled. "Tell me about Pete."
"His names Dwaine."
"Dwaine what?"
He shook his head. Wrong answer she thought as she stepped over, pressing the syringe lightly against his neck, the needle jabbing his skin gently. She felt him try to move, poor fool. She whispered again. "Tell me."
"Dwaine Johnson."
She had two answers, the truth of her ex lovers name and information about this mystery substance, it hurt. "Tell me more."
"No."
The needle scraped his skin, a little deeper. He winced and muttered, his eyes closing, tears brimming she could see the psychological torture. He'd expected to last longer than this at his own game of power. "Okay, he's an assassin."
Hardly surprising, she tied nots, connections. So that's how they knew each other, they were never friends but rivals.
"He's dead isn't he Lyndon? You killed him?"
"No." A laugh. "That would have been to easy."
"Then where is he?"
This time a head shake, the needle went all the way into a vein, it had no effect other than a wince. She spared no mercy, she hated herself as she pushed down the lever, emptying the barrel. His eyes closed, knowing, waiting, preparing. A moment later he cried out in pain, his eyes already blood shot. "Lyndon, tell me." She stepped away knowing it would take but seconds, between the sobs of course.
"America, I think. I made a deal, you're dead, that's the upside."
No she thought, she'd just have to have another fight. He babbled some more, between coughs, sobs and deep inhales. Finally satisfied she took the second knife holding it up, she flicked the blade and sent it through the air. Regrettably it went right and landed into soft flesh, she heard the coughing and the remaining oxygen in Lyndon's right lung escaping as it collapsed, blood oozed from the wound and tears fell from his eyes. No, it had meant to hit the heart and finish this. She gasped and ran, leaving her victim alone for only a moment as she grasped aspirin in her hand, 12 capsules, a bottle of vodka too. With some force and gentle soothing she forced his mouth open and poured both the capsules and liquid forcing him to swallow the putrid mix. "They'll make you bleed faster."
He nodded, panting. it had been her sign of respect, of mercy, to end his life sooner, Something the settled in her eyes, an ice cold he'd seen only in himself. She turned the chair toward the window, his eyes looked down at the busy London traffic three floor below, then it was sudden. He felt nothing as the window broke with his weight, nothing more as he hit the ground.
The last thing saw were wheels of the bus stop, he heard the bone in his leg snap, he was sure now he was done.