"Fine" I shouted as I slammed the door behind me and began to walk, fuming, not only at the argument I had just left, but at the fact that I had just stormed out of my own house! If anyone should have been leaving it should have been her. My housemate. But it had become clear that she was not going to walk away from the fight. So I had.

"Justifiable homicide" I muttered darkly, imagining nasty things. I'd never do it of course, but it cheered me up slightly to think about it as I stomped off down the street, going no-where in particular. The sun was starting to set and the air was getting cold. I hadn't thought to grab a coat but I didn't care, I was too worked up, and there was no way I was going back home till at least one of us had cooled down enough to avoid words turning into something physical. We'd met at a martial arts class, it probably wouldn't end well. For either of us.

I was too wrapped up in my own thoughts to even notice that there were others on the street at first. Even when I heard the shouting I just kept on stomping along, glaring at the concrete. It was even a little comforting to know that we weren't the only ones fighting today, and at least we had done it indoors rather than on the footpath. I briefly considered switching to the other side of the street, but decided that it was there problem, not mine, if they wanted to get into a public argument.

Of course if I had bothered to listen to what they were shouting about, I might have saved myself from a world of pain.

He grabbed so abruptly that I couldn't even react before I felt the sharp pain of a knife against my side. I froze as my anger was quickly replaced by fear, taking shallow breaths as I tried to get a handle on the situation I had just walked into.

"Easy there." The man in front of me had one hand up in a calming gesture, but the other was firmly gripping the handle of a knife. Great. Just great, I had gone and walked into a bloody knife fight. No, I thought, not a fight, not yet anyway, looked like they were both just threatening each other. At least not until I walked into the equation.

The man behind me was speaking now. "You'd rather die than give it to me, fine. Give it to me Dean or she dies." I whimpered a little as he pushed the knife in a little harder to make his point, enough to break the skin and send a small trickle of blood down my side.

I tried to remember what we had learnt in class about attackers with knives. It was hard to think over the sound of my thumping heart. Give them what they want. Despite all the practice drills we did, that had been our instructor's advice if you were ever actually attacked with a knife, just give them what they want. But what if you weren't the one who had what they wanted? I stared at the man in front of me, Dean. The man who's decision would either save or kill me. I didn't know him, which in this small town meant he wasn't local, and anyway, he was a memorable sort of guy. He was tall, muscular, with short brown hair and piercing green eyes. He looked like this was far from his first knife fight, and I wondered if he would even care if this guy gutted me. I shuddered at the thought.

"Let the girl go. I don't have what you want." He said it calmly, but with a firmness that said don't mess with me. The knife slid a little deeper in response and I cried out, a tear slipping down my face. "Please" I whispered, staring into his eyes. Please don't let him kill me. He met my gaze and his eyes softened for just a moment, "You just stay calm, ok?" he said before returning his focus to the man behind me. I nodded, returning to my study of him to take my mind off the knife slowly burying itself in my side. He was wearing a canvas jacket that looked too warm for the season, although I figured it was probably a good thing to have if you made it a habit of getting into knife fights. I suppressed this stupid urge to giggle at the thought.

The man behind me broke the silence that had stretched between them. "I know you have it" he practically shouted, making me flinch. "You or your brother," he gave a dark chuckle that sent shivers down my spine, "and don't worry, someone else is already dealing with him." I saw a brief flash of fear in Dean's eyes as they flicked towards the laneway behind him, then back to us. He hid it again fast, but it was enough. Seeing a hard man like him afraid, now I was downright terrified. I started to shake, my breath speeding up. He glanced at me again, seeming to assess me for a moment, and then returned his attention to the man, eyes hard with hatred. "You touch Sam and –" "You'll kill me" the man finished for him, sounding almost bored, "I bet you say that to all the boys" he said with another dark chuckle.

I was going to hyperventilate if I didn't calm down. I focused again on his clothes. He was wearing a plaid shirt under the jacket, which was strange enough to distract me a little. Even out here pretty much no one actually wore plaid anymore. He had on sturdy, military style boots. And to top it all off a pair of denim jeans, that I couldn't help but notice, even in my current state, fit just perfectly in all the right places. This time I couldn't help the slightly hysterical giggle that slipped out.

It seemed to startle both of them for a moment, but Dean recovered quicker, and it was all the distraction he needed. Quick as a flash he aimed and threw his knife towards us.

I screamed, feeling pain slice through me before the world spun into blackness.