Kelly

I didn’t know it would end up like this.

He starts coming at me. I start shouting at him; I mean I didn’t want this thing to turn into a blood bath. He had a knife, for Christ’s sake.

I’m even shouting at Shree. He’s just standing there naked, watching this whole thing go down. The guy can be useless sometimes. He really can.

I start punching and kicking this freak, and I’m trying to do it in a way so that I wound him enough to stop him but not kill him. I didn’t want to kill the guy. Honestly, I didn’t. Swear to god.

So like I said, I’m punching and kicking him. Pretty hard, too. I admit it. I’m not really thinking clearly – combat is largely instinctive – but I did have one thing on my mind: arm bar. Get him in an arm bar, Kelly, and the knife will be out of the picture. That’s what I’m telling myself now. Once that’s done, everything will be okay. I can force him to tell me where the baby is, I can get her, and I can go to the hospital. Easy as pie.

Of course, he’s a pretty tough motherfucker. He really is. He’s staying focused in spite of my punches and kicks, and he’s not letting go of his knife.

Suddenly, he stabs me.

I don’t know how it happened. It was just one of those things you don’t see coming, and you wonder how it happened. All I know is that I’m looking down, and all I see is blood.

He keeps stabbing me with his knife all over my upper body. Yeah, it’s a dinky little knife, but it can do some serious damage when someone’s sticking it inside of you with all their strength.

So I have to react, and react quickly. Apparently my life is on the line.

The arm bar wasn’t going to work. That’s fine. Just be cool, Kelly. You’re a martial artist. A warrior.

Suddenly, I realize what I need to do. One word: Bubishi.

I’m a little disappointed in myself for not having thought of it before getting stabbed.

The beauty of strikes derived from the Bubishi is the quickness with which they can be executed. So in a matter of seconds, I thrust my fingers between his ribs and into his heart, and then right into the veins in his neck.

Just after I do this, though, he stabs me again.

In the neck.

I can feel my life floating away now. Memories flashing before me. Sex with Shree by the tree, starting SMIC, saving lives. Creating joy and happiness. Evolving love.

So I’m dying, and yes, that’s unfortunate. But I know that the reason I’m here is because of that baby girl. I don’t know where she is, and I guess now I’ll never know. But the point is that I was trying to save a life, to save something precious and intrinsically priceless.

I guess I’m satisfied in knowing one thing: if everyone had my stance on life, the world would be a great place. So in a way, I’m considering my death as an introduction to martyrdom. After all, I sacrificed myself in the name of the value of human life. My death is an honorable one. A noble one. And ultimately, a noble death is worth a million lives.