Note to self…. No head smashing.
Thanh Van's brows furrowed as he refused to leave the comfort of unconsciousness. The thrumming ache flared like a raging fire as it dragged him awake. It started from the back of his head, creeping down his spine and spreading wings towards his shoulders, the pain burning every nerve on its way.
He was sure his skull had been smashed in. The dried blood that trailed his face like tendrils and glued his lashes shut was enough testimony for it.
The coppery taste of blood coated his tongue, and something itched and wriggled in his throat but he rather not think about it. Faintly, he could remember the brass cross swung down on him before his world went dark.
Damn, it hurt like a motherfucker. If the victim of such violence had been anybody else, they would have bled to death already.
