I stumbled out of the garage and saw him standing there, his knife raised, breathing heavily as he waited for me. The rain had started again.

  "No more tricks now, you little prick," he said to me, licking his lips. "Come on, let's see what you've got."

  Slowly, I circled him, wishing I had grabbed the bat on my way out. What did I have left? Maybe a couple of Bang Rocks and a single Chalk Bomb, but what good would a Chalk Bomb be out here in the rain? It might blind him for a second, but it wouldn't do much more than that.

  I took a deep breath and licked my bloodied lips. I stayed out of reach of the blade, eyeing the wicked blade, my heart thudding in my chest. Suddenly, Goldilocks lunged forward. He was tall and gangly and had an easy reach advantage over me. He jabbed his knife at me a couple of times, leering nastily as he did.

  "I'm gonna gut you and I'm gonna enjoy it," he snarled.

  "I'm… just gonna… kick your fucking head in," I growled.

  Note to self: if I live through this, I seriously need to practice my tough guy banter.

  Goldilocks leapt again, stabbing the blade at me. I lurched backwards and stumbled, and then he was on me, lightning fast, jabbing and slashing with the knife, and I barely managed to keep away. He cut low which I wasn't expecting, and out of instinct, I threw my forearm guard in the way. The blade screeched off the metal of the guard, slicing straight through my jacket sleeve and across my abdomen on the way up.

  It wasn't a deep cut, and my enchanted clothing protected me somewhat, but I felt wetness dripping down my stomach and a hot searing line of pain across my belly. He spun the knife, bringing it down in a stabbing motion. Panicked, I threw my hands up and somehow caught his wrist. He was much taller than me and stronger. He bore down on me, using his height and weight advantage to drive the knife down. His eyes were wild and maddeningly wide. Blood ran from his cut cheek, covering half his face, and adding to the maniacal bend of his features.

  "Your dead little man. See what you get for trying to play hero? You're dead!" he screamed at me.

  He was going to kill me, I realised. There was nothing I could do. He backed me against a wall under a streetlight. He brought all his weight down behind the dagger, driving it closer to my neck. I grunted and struggled. My muscles shook and my legs wobbled. The blade inched closer to my throat.

  "No!" I screamed.

  I couldn't let it end like this. I owed it to Grandad, to Mark, to Marilyn, to all the people I wanted to help. I couldn't just let him kill me here. So I did the only thing I could do, and it wasn't particularly noble or honourable, but it was effective. I brought my knee up straight between his legs. A whoosh of air erupted from his mouth and his eyes almost crossed.

  The force behind the blade went slack, and he stumbled backwards, one hand clasped between his legs. I let out a deep breath of relief and then lashed out with the Cord, wrapped it around his blade hand, and yanked it hard. He stumbled off balance, and I ran at him, punching him with everything I had.

  I hit him square on the cheekbone, and he grunted and staggered. I hit him again. He fell to one knee, his eyes looking glassy and unfocused. I smashed him across the cheek bone again and blood spewed from his mouth. This was it! I had him! I’d won! I reared back for the final blow. Pain suddenly lanced across my abdomen. I cried out, my body losing all strength, and doubled over.

  I looked down and saw the knife buried up to the hilt in the side of my stomach, just above my hip. My eyes widened in shock. Goldilocks leered up at me, his mouth bloody.

  "Gotcha," he said, twisting the blade and yanking it out of my stomach.

  I gasped, staggering backwards, barely staying upright. I slapped my hand down on the wound, feeling the blood cascading between my fingers. I felt woozy almost immediately, my breath coming hard as shock and panic took over.

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  "I told you, you're a dead man," Goldilocks said, dragging himself upwards. He was hurt, but now he smelled the kill and he was going to finish me off.

  He came forward, and I felt my vision blurring. I gritted my teeth. If this was how it was going to end, then I would make sure I took down at least one thug with me. I reached into my pocket and grabbed the last few Bang Rocks that I had left. He charged wildly at me, and I hurled them at his face. Two of them bounced off his cheek, making him flinch, but the third went straight for his mouth, hit him on the front two teeth, and exploded. I saw shards of enamel fly out of his mouth as his head whipped back. He was flung from his feet and he hit the ground skull first, the bloody knife flying from his hand. He twitched and then went still.

  I stood there, my legs quivering, my knees feeling weak while I clamped a hand to my stomach and breathed short, sharp, gasping breaths. Everything went quiet. I'd won, hadn't I? I looked at the garage and nothing moved. Goldilocks was finished. I stood there, befuddled, swaying and feeling like I was about to pass out.

  Then I heard the sirens.

  I willed my body into motion. It felt like the entire left side of my body had stopped working. I dragged my useless leg and limped back into the now almost smoke-free garage, and saw the handle of Grandad’s bat. I groaned deeply as I bent down, picked it up, and then turned and began limping away as fast as I could, using the bat as a makeshift cane. The sirens were getting louder. I had to get away from here. Blood was trailing down my trousers, leaving little dots all along the ground behind me in a bloody trail. I had to get away. I had to get away. My vision blurred. The corners of my eyes were darkening. I had to get away.

  I didn’t know how long I had been limping or even how far I had gotten. Every step felt more impossible than the last. My whole body quivered and shook. I felt sick and light headed. I knew I was bleeding badly. I had stopped looking down but I knew my entire shirt and trouser leg were saturated in blood. Every step was agonising now. I wasn’t going to last much longer. The sound of sirens had disappeared behind me but that no longer mattered.

  I had limped all the way to an old churchyard. The church was long abandoned now but the park had remained, like some gothic remnant of time long gone. There was a statue in the middle of the overgrown park and I felt myself drawn to it. I dragged my broken body towards it, stumbling over the cracked and uneven paving slabs that were more weed than concrete at this point. I kept my rapidly dimming vision on the statue, willing my body to continue on for just a few more paces. As I drew closer I saw it was the statue of a woman. The features had been worn smooth by the years of rain and exposure to the elements. But it looked… comforting. It looked like a good place to die.

  I stumbled and this time I fell, landing in a heap at the feet of the statue. I dragged my carcass up and leaned my back against the statue's legs. The park was barely lit by the iridescent glow of a street light just outside its fences. The place was bathed in yellow light and deep shadows. My breathing had become more laboured now and I was struggling to fill my lungs. It felt like everything had slowed. Funnily enough, the wound didn’t hurt anymore. I was smothered in numbness. That can’t be good.

  I clenched my jaw and then felt tears running down my cheeks. I didn’t want to die. My life had been pretty shit up to now. I’d been abandoned, bullied, abused, starved, and beaten more times than I could count. I’d been a social pariah and about as popular as a roach. I had little education and no prospects of a bright future. I’d lost both my parents and my Grandad. I had no one in the whole entire world… but I didn’t want to die.

  Red hot tears of rage burned my cheeks. It was so unfair. I had been dealt nothing but shitty hands my whole life and now this is how it was going to end? Stabbed by some punk and left to bleed out at the feet of some pigeon shit covered statue. My body would probably be eaten by the feral foxes before anyone found me.

  It wasn’t fair. Why couldn't I have just had a normal life? Why couldn’t I have had parents that loved me? Why did Grandad have to try and stop those muggers? Why did he leave me so suddenly? Why didn’t anyone love me enough to stay?

  I felt it now. These would be the last few breaths. They were short and sharp, more desperate gasping than breathing. I looked down at my wounded stomach. It was a sea of red. At least it would be over quickly. I blinked tears from my eyes and closed them, leaning my head back against the statue. I wonder what comes next?

  “Coo!”

  My eyes fluttered open. There was a pigeon looking down at me. It sat on the statue’s head, and cocked its head sideways at me. There was something strange about this pigeon.

  “Mortal, you’re not planning on expiring at the feet of the Pigeon King’s favourite perch are you?”

  Oh great, the pigeon spoke. Was this a normal part of dying?

  “How rude! You have lathered the place with your blood! The inconsiderateness of humans never ceases to amaze!”

  Yep, that was definitely a talking pigeon. My eyes fluttered again and my head lolled to my chest.

  “And now he’s gone and died while I am still speaking! How thoughtless!”