Ken was way behind and didn’t even come close to getting the gun in position to shoot in time.
It all seemed so surreal as if everything was moving in slow motion like we were in a vacuum. I didn’t hear a sound until the steel connected with flesh. I was holding the straight end of the iron. The straight part at the opposite end struck Ken’s jawline and the crooked part of it, the left side of his head. I heard the thump of metal meeting meat and the sound of breaking bone. A pink burst of spray hung in the air after the blood sprayed from Ken’s mouth. He went down hard, losing his grip on the pistol in the process. It went skittering into the red dirt.
Enraged, my adrenaline was pumping. I’d already raised the iron and started coming down to finish Ken with a second blow before I regained control. I stopped myself. He was down, and it was clear he was unconscious. Another blow now and self-defense would become murder. I stumbled backward, and my arse came to rest on the rear bumper of the car. I sat for a moment struggling to regain control of my emotions.
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