[ he's ignoring the sharp pain that punch brought his broken hand, he has to, he can't stop now to think how much she looks her her -- that hand instead trying to cover his face, get a firm grip on her as he draws that knife closer to her neck, the hilt almost slipping out of his sweat-slick palm --

before he tries to stab her in the throat, from the side; not anything neat or coordinated, just one rough motion, telling of how he's never actually used one to fight like this, to kill. ]