258.
Every step was painful, but every step took me one more meter closer.
372.
I didn't dare look back, knowing what I'd see there and what it would do to my determination.
501.
Instead I focused on moving forward, one hand on my walking stick, the other by my side.
638.
Holding the knife still, wedged as it was between my ribs.
750.
Removing it, I'd have only mere seconds before I bled out.
817.
And I needed to get there first.
893.
I could see him ahead.
960.
Nearly.
1000.
I pulled the knife out and stabbed him.
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