Origins of Blood (RE)

Another shot.

Close.

Too close.

But the threads of light—those red strands that only I can see—they guide me. I feel where the next bullet will fly. I pivot. Smooth. Natural. My body moves as if I’m pulled by a wind only I can sense.

Then it hits me.

Not a bullet.

A sound.

A choke. A scream, low and broken. Another shot follows. Then curses. The threads twist my leg to the right, pulling my torso with it, letting me move with a strange grace—like a dancer on the edge of the wind.

But the gulping doesn’t stop.

And something inside me does.

My finger twitches.