The moment he'd thrown up on Mikhail, he'd know he was in trouble- the hand to the face probably wasn't very helpful either, at least not in the sense of 'maybe he'll spare me'. The knife made Johan shout at once, his weak voice calling for somebody, anybody. Then, the metal plunged. He'd expected it in his face or throat, but instead it went into his right hand. The pain was burning and Johan gasped in pain, trying to move, but that only cause more pain. Sticky blood ran down his arm as he gasped in shock and tried not to fall down onto the ground, knowing he was weak and knowing he-
Then he knew nothing at all. His head rammed back against the hard, cold stone and his skull vibrated hard as his eyes slid closed, and his would turned to inky black.