Yes, his punch broke Farfarello's cheekbone. The face shattered, and Caim's inner vision imagined it crumpling into the skull, leaving a vast, dark hole of blood and bone and tissue. He grinned with the very thought, drawing his hand back for another blow.

He had forgotten about the knife.

It came up and pierced him, going through the flimsy cloth of his shirt and the fragile bindings of his body - through skin and flesh and finally through into his body. Caim's mouth opened again in a silent howl of pain as the blade drove in further, and he desperately tried to wrench his body back and away - but his other hand was still caught, and the claws were driving further and further into him, scissoring and sawing.

Caim quickly threw himself to the side, off the bed and off of Farfarello. The knife didn't hit its mark, but now Caim was on his back on the floor, head cracking against the solid ground painfully. And his entrapped hand ... by falling, he had twisted his arm back, forcing the claws deeper into the back of his hand. Things were breaking and tearing, and it was painful - more painful than he'd thought something so small would be.