#*dab

There’s blood all over his clothes - expensive and pressed and covered in red and red and red. It gleans (sticky and wet and dark) under the flashlight and moon, and all Deb can hear is the ringing in her ears, distracting her from the pain in her leg. Torn to shreds at the calf from a trap. The ringing is deafening and she thinks, maybe, this is what it’s like when a bomb goes off.

She felt stupid, jumping out a window in a panic just as Chad yells for her to not - she assures him it’s fine, Jason is distracted by Adam a house over - and when the thing slams down on her she doesn’t even scream. Just like what the kids say at school - go out with a whimper.

There’s blood on his clothes through the half hearted t-shirt bandages. ”I can walk, Chad, promise.” she says weakly; shakily, but he doesn’t let go or put her down and his breathing is rapid and scared but he doesn’t leave her behind.