...and he raised an arm to hit me, but I turned and kicked him away, so hard he flew head over heels a few yards, until crumpling against the wall opposite me. Blood dripping from his forehead, he looked up at me with instant fury and hate, and a desire to kill. He stood, then began towards me, slowly, and then running impossibly fast. He'd pulled a knife from his watseband, yet as he quickly became inches away, I took his armed hand in my own fist, swinging him around, and said coldly, "Seeing you are trying to bring me towards the light, my brother, I shall simply kill you now and save you the trouble." But I released him. I did not want to have to kill him... and I gave him the choice to leave alive. Sadistic of me, really. I knew he would not leave without me alive, and I knew I was not leaving with him.