Knife stabbing

The knife glinted ominously in the yellow buzz of the streetlight. That had been pulled from nowhere! Then again, this was a magician we’re talking about. He smiled and the girl could see his smile reflected on the blade of the knife. But the smile was fake. A theatrical smile. Cruel.
The knife twitched dangerously close to her chest and she jumped, her eyes never leaving the blade. She tried not to breathe too deeply or the knife’s point would drill into her chest.
“Unfortunately, you have disrupted my show once again, messed up my perfect ideas, and in the process, foiled several of my tricks.” She bit her lip as the knife inched closer. “Though my rage is…uncontrollable, I believe that I’ll refrain from the “tell-all”, egotistical tale of how I vanquished everyone-“
“Why not?” she muttered, eyes still trained to the knife, “you are egotistical.”
“-Therefore giving you a chance to escape.” He continued as if he hadn’t heard her in a deadly voice that echoed throughout the cold, empty street. He smiled wider and drew back the knife. She frowned and started to back up.
Suddenly he lunged at her, the knife clenched in his fist, his feet scraping against the gritty ground. She turned away just as the knife scraped along her skin, stopping at her shoulder. The skin held for a moment before allowing the knife to slide through, slipping into the shoulder. The knife was then ripped out, drawing with it a shower of blood. Her whole body convulsed, her back arcing as her mouth opened in a silent scream of agony. The pain shot through her shoulder over and over as if the knife continually stabbed her. Every way she moved the wound hurt even more. She could hear the magician laughing loudly and merrily as if it was just a joke or trick. She felt the knifepoint dance near her neck as he laughed, the knife held carelessly in his slim fingers. Blood poured from her shoulder wound, blossoming as it slipped quickly down her white skin, already leaving a trail of flaking, orange, crusty blood. Suddenly the knife stilled, straightening just in the hollow beneath her neck. “You can’t stab me there.” She whispered gallantly, trying to stall him. She didn’t know why, she couldn’t see straight, much less think of a good plan. Slowly the point pressed harder and harder on her flesh. Compulsively, her arm shot out, knocking his arm away, the knife just catching her cheek as she heard it skitter away on the uneven pavement. With a roar of anger, the magician leapt off her, stumbling away into the dark to find the knife. Wincing in the ultimate pain, she tripped into a standing position, not sure what she was doing.
Pressing her hand on the wound she instinctively took off sprinting down the street. Slowly she started to stumble. She fell against a tree, pressing at the wound. She pulled her had away; blood burst from the wound. She quickly covered it up again, but the blood continued to trickle down between her fingers. She stared at it as she slid down to sit in front of the tree. Tears dripped onto the pavement mixing with the rain that had begun to fall. She never thought she would die like this. She could feel the air slowly escaping her lungs. Sobs caught in her throat; she had always had this vision of going out in a bang, in some amazing feat of bravery and courageousness. She was going to die having run away. She calmly closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the tree. Rain spattered the cold face. The now dead face.