First Kill

IMPORTANT: This is part of a bigger story, I was just wanting some help with this specific scene because I'm not so good at fighting scenes. So some of the things might be confusing simply because it's out of context. To hopefully help with any confusion, here's a quick summary of the world: After a series of natural disasters, a lot of people died and the majority of the world is in ruins. Survivors must do whatever they can do live. Even if that means kill.

On with the story.

The creaking of floorboards woke him. The sunlight no longer shined through the cracks in his boarded window. He must have dozed off, how long had he been asleep? More importantly, who- or what -was making the loud clattering downstairs?

Though curious, Ralys didn’t dare move. The grip on his knife tightened at the sound of heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. He sucked in a breath as the door to his bedroom opened, he was thankful for the dark, for the way it hid him from the looming silhouette in his doorway. The person’s figure told him it was a man; tall, broad shouldered and no doubt bigger and stronger than Ralys was.

With a grunt, the man stepped across the threshold and began rummaging through Ralys’ dresser, tearing the drawers out and pouring the contents onto the floor. He could feel his pulse in his ears. The man left the dresser in a mess and moved to the closet, coming uncomfortably close to where Ralys hid, crouched by the foot of his bed. His body ached and screamed for him to make a break for the door, despite how stupid that idea was. He couldn’t risk breathing and the pressure to gasp for air was becoming increasingly harder to ignore.

Fortunately, the man stopped his search and with yet another grunt he exited the room. Slowly and as quietly as humanly possible, he exhaled. He couldn’t stay here. If that man came back at daylight, Ralys didn’t want to be present.

He sat for a moment, listening. When he could no longer hear any sounds of the intruder, he slipped out from his hiding spot, sliding his knife into the makeshift sheath at his waist. Even though the lack of noise indicated he was alone, he still did his best not to make any sound. Silently, he tiptoed from his bedroom and began to descend the stairs. Halfway to the bottom, the shadowed figure of the man walked into view. Ralys stopped dead in his tracks and felt his eyes widen. His fingers curled around the hilt of his knife.

The man didn’t seem to notice him, thankfully, and walked through the archway that went into the living room. Ralys suppressed a relieved sigh. He stood there on the stairs for a long time, contemplating what to do next. The door sat at the end of the stairs, he could probably make it out without getting caught. If he stayed here, it’d be harder to escape the longer he waited.

The sound of light snoring broke through his thoughts. Taking that as a sign to keep moving forward, Ralys stepped carefully down the steps, having memorized which spots squeaked and which didn’t long ago, back when he snuck out of the house while his Mom slept. The memory was like a slap to the face. He hadn’t thought about her since the beginning of all of this. He silently swore to never again think of her in times of imminent peril. It was distracting and would only bring him trouble...

He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, crouching and leaning around the corner to look into his living room. Moonlight came through the window, illuminating the room and Ralys was able to see the intruder. He was sprawled across the couch on his stomach, his head turned away from Ralys. The snoring had grown louder.

Looking to the front door, a thought entered his head. He mindlessly caressed his knife. I could kill him. The thought was equally shocking and horrifying to him. He supposed he’d need to kill someone eventually, but he wasn’t looking to make that sooner rather than later. Just get to the door and get out. He stood up but paused. A backpack laying on the man’s legs caught his eye, the list of useful supplies running through his mind; a separate list of foods going through his head next, and he remembered then how hungry he was.

Without a second thought, he quietly crossed the living room and came up to where the man slept. Reaching out slowly, as if simply raising his arm could make noise if he did so too quickly, he grabbed one of the backpacks straps. He lifted it off the man’s legs and-

The man snorted loudly and rolled over, the sudden movement startling Ralys and coaxing a shrill scream from his throat and he tumbled back, tripping over his feet and hitting the floor. The man shot into a sitting position, looking around. His glare set upon Ralys, taking in the way he sat, clutching the backpack to his chest. “You little punk.” He growled. Ralys’ heart pounded and he scrambled to his feet in an attempt to get to the door. He could make it out, he could outrun-

Two beefy arms wrapped around his thin waist and hoisted him into the air. He shrieked, mind racing, eyes darting around the dim lit room in hopes to find a way out. The knife. But as fate would have it, the weapon fell against the floor then.

The man’s eyes went to the knife. He clicked his tongue in a deprecating manner. “You came here tryin’ ta’ picka fight, boy?”

Ralys kicked and squirmed. His elbow smacked into the man’s throat. The latter gagged, letting go and Ralys was dropped to his knees. He began clambering away, only for his ankle to be snatched and dragged back. He caught sight of the knife and reached out for it, a sense of relief running over him as he was able to hold the hilt tightly in his hand. Turning over onto his back, he sliced blindly. Their was a cry of pain, but the man didn’t let go. Ralys was grabbed by the shirt and pulled up, a fist meeting his cheek and knocking him back to the floor. His chest was being crushed, and his foggy mind took a moment to register that the man was now on top of him. Before he could react, he was punched in the face again, again and again.

Unable to focus, Ralys groped for the knife that had fallen from his hand some time during the altercation. Fingers wrapped around his throat then and panic rose in his chest and he gasped, the sloppy movements for his weapon becomes more urgent. The man hissed something. It was hard to concentrate on his words, and they came to Ralys as more of a muddled mess than anything coherent. His palm fell against the knife. The man’s hold on his throat tightened. Black dots scattered across his vision and he felt weak. He stabbed at the man, a howl of pain piercing through the air. The grip on his throat loosened. He stabbed again, droplets of something moist falling across his face. A third time, and the weight on his chest went away, a loud thump as the body fell next to him. He gasped for breath, shooting to his feet only to fall to his knees as the world spun. He collapsed, breathing heavily. His limbs shook uncontrollably and he let out a shuddering sigh. He turned his head to look at the limp body. “I killed him.” He whispered.