As the blade withdrew from John's chest, a rush of agony overtook him. He collapsed to the ground in a violent, uncontrolled descent. Blood gushed from the wound, staining his clothing and the ground beneath him. Each heartbeat sent fresh waves of pain radiating through his body.
John fell down fast. One moment he was standing, the next it felt like the battlefield shook beneath him. He hit the ground with a sickening thump, his body twisting at an unnatural angle.
Pain shot through him, a primal scream caught in his throat. Instinctively, his hands flew to the gaping wound, warm blood staining his fingers red. Each breath was a shallow gasp, ragged and torn from his lungs. Agony etched itself across his face as he wore and expression of pure suffering.
