Killing for Manhood
Copyright© 2026 by Heel
Chapter 2
Thomas stood frozen only a moment longer before the girl’s sobbing pulled him forward again. It wasn’t loud now—just broken, breathy sounds that scraped at him worse than screaming had.
He raised his hands slowly, empty, palms out the way he had once seen traders do when they wanted to show peace.
“No ... no shoot,” he said, the words stiff and wrong in his mouth. “I—help. I help.”
She stared at him as if he were unreal. Her face was pale beneath the dust, eyes wide and wet. When she tried to move, her body twisted uselessly and she cried out, collapsing again.
“My leg,” she gasped. “I can’t— I can’t feel my leg.”
Thomas swallowed hard.
He crouched a few steps away, afraid of coming closer, afraid of staying back. He pointed to himself. “Thomas,” he said. Then, gently, he pointed to her, eyebrows raised in question.
She hesitated, then whispered, “Anna. An orphan.”
The arrow trembled where it stuck from her lower back. Blood soaked the cloth around it, warm and dark. Thomas knew arrows. He knew what leaving one inside could do. He also knew what pulling it out could do.
His hands shook as he reached toward it, then stopped.
“Arrow ... bad,” he said slowly, searching for words. “Must come ... out.”
Her eyes filled with terror. She shook her head weakly. “No. Please. It hurts—”
“I know,” he said quickly, broken English spilling out. “I sorry. I sorry.” He pressed a hand briefly to his chest, then forced himself to continue. “I do fast. No slow.”
She sobbed, breath hitching. Her fingers dug into the dirt. After a moment, she nodded—just once.
Thomas moved behind her, careful, gentle. Up close, he could see how young she really was. A faint scar on her chin. Sunburn on her nose. Someone who should have been laughing somewhere, not lying wounded on a road.
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