“Are you sure you’re not going to fall?” I whispered, trying carefully to form the words around the blade in my mouth. She pulled my hair more tightly and I could see the glint of the silver blade reflected in her dark eyes. She slipped the cool blade deeper into my throat and I wondered if the metallic taste in my mouth was my own blood — this too seemed unimportant.
“I can wield a switch blade any old time. Drunk or sober,” she snarled. I believed her, closed my eyes and did my best not to gag.