Then I tilted my head slightly, exposing my neck. "Here it is."
I tapped two fingers against my skin, each touch deliberate. "Go on," I said, meeting her glare. "Try to cut it."
She trembled, her eyes locked on my exposed neck, her grip tightening and loosening on the hilt as her breath came in uneven bursts.
"Do it," I said quietly. "What's stopping you? Go on."
Her breathing grew heavier, her shoulders rising and falling with each sharp inhale. I waited, unmoving, letting the silence stretch between us until it became unbearable.
When she still didn't move, I shook my head slowly, my voice dripping with disappointment. "Pathetic," I said. "Are you really that weak? No wonder your father never mentioned your name. I doubt he even knew you existed."
"Shut up!" she screamed, swinging the blade with all the strength she could muster.
