Sep 14, 2020
@tread-the-bear / sc.
Six instinctively held the clean rag against the open cut on her forehead. She still felt rather disoriented; it was hard to tell if it was the blood loss or the hangover. Maybe it was the murder. Everything sounded underwater to her now, even as Boone dug through a first aid kit, all of it must have just been a bad dream.
“Craig,” it wasn’t often she called him by his first name, only when it was something serious or earnest. At that moment it was because she was afraid. The way she called his name sounded more like pleading with him for a help he couldn’t provide.
