One of the boys—the same one who had punched me in the face earlier—walked toward me while spitting to the side, as if trying to rid his mouth of the "disgusting taste"
The six-eyed maggot had supposedly left behind, and the moment he stepped closer, the others instinctively paused their beating, giving me a single, fleeting opening that made my thoughts sharpen for the first time since the ambush, because in that instant, I genuinely considered fighting back.
With my right hand, I lunged forward and seized one of the wooden sticks, gripping it with enough force that the dry wood screamed under the pressure, cracks spreading instantly along its length as if it were about to shatter, and my sudden movement made the boy flinch backward in surprise, his confidence wavering for less than a second.
Unfortunately, that single second was all it took.
