a knife through the hand, pinning a character to the ground, their fingers shaking and little whimpers escaping them as each movement brings pain
((this is a human version of scarecrow, modern day. he’s only 19 or so))
This wasn’t the first time he’d pissed off his employer, but certantly the most painful. He hadn’t expected the baseball bat to the head, or the knife through the palm of his left hand when he was prone, laying on his back. Everything else, though? That was normal. Now he was alone, any twitch of his fingers bringing more pain. His breathing hitched as he instinctively tried to pull his hand closer. If he rolled to try to grab the knife, or just pulled it out as he lay now, he’d just tear his hand open even more. Serrated steel had that sort of effect on a person.
Sayyid let a small noise escape his throat. Everything hurt. He’d have to find a way to hide this. A shirt could cover the brusies that would form on his back. Luckily, his employer didn’t want to leave obvious or lasting injuries on people in their hire. Not for this kind of work. Anything that drew attention would be the end, and already he drew enough that everything he did was monitored by him employer. Sayyid closed his eyes as he tried to remember what he’d done this time. Was it- yep. That argument. He couldn’t remember the specifics even, but the young, hot-headed hitman had said something… Right. Tried to correct his employer. Oops.
The door to the small room opened and a woman with short hair stepped in. Sayyid kept his eyes shut and didn’t bother to stiffle his whimpers anymore. He knew who this was. To him, she was the closest he’d ever get to see of his mysterious employer. It was her he’d argued with. He sometimes confalted the two in his mind.
“Are you done arguing, boy?” she asked. Sayyid went to speak, cut off by his own cry of pain as the knife was roughly torn out of his hand.
“Y-yes, Sir,” Sayyid whimpered. He didn’t dare move. He’d gotten hit enough times in life to know that you didn’t move until they said you could.
“Louder.”
Sayyid cringed and yelped as he felt her step on his already injured hand. Eyes shut eyes shut eyes shut
“Yes, S-sir,” he answered, a little louder this time. The weight dissapeared from his hand.
“Get up.”
Sayyid pulled his hand closer and quickly got to his feet. He looked at the taller woman. She crossed her arms.
“What are you waiting for? You’re free to go.”
Sayyid blinked stupidly at her. The woman merely walked over and slapped him across the face to break him out of the stupor.
Sayyid nodded, taking a few cautions steps towards the door to the hallway.
“S-Sorry, sir. You said-”
“Go home. We’ll contact you when you’re needed again.”
When he was sure he wouldn’t get punished again, he power-walked towards the exit.
Maybe he could find a way to do this job and not get the shit beat out of him every time he made a mistake.