Caim thrashed and bit, trying to catch something of Farfarello when the man moved, but he couldn't get far enough forward or to the sides. The sensation of that tongue running along his broken finger lingered, and he longed to shake it off, but there was something much more urgent that suddenly made its way into his mind.

Sharp pain - almost searing - under his left thumb's nail. The bastard was prying off his fingernail.

Broken fingers were one thing; this was something else. Caim thrashed and ground his teeth together, desperately trying to jerk his fingers into a fist and get them away from the knife blade. Damn it! If this was how he was going to end - bit by bit, inch by inch, taking eternities to get there - then he should just end it himself now ... !!