Chapter Text
It was a beating, torrential rain. Gutters turned rivers lined the road, and every car that passed sent a new mist of dirty street water against the already shivering Amanda and her soaking wet clothes. She hugged herself closer as she stumbled down the sidewalks. The twist in her ankle made it hard to walk–and the stab wound in the chest probably didn’t help either.
When she looked down at herself, all she could see was the blood. Instead of washing it away, the rain instead just made it pool down and stain her shirt and her pants. Though woozy and freezing, she still felt the pang of silly, silly loss that came with the knowledge that she’d have to throw these pants away. She’d got them on sale.
Amanda pressed her hands to the wound on her chest, trying her best to staunch the bleeding at least somewhat. She didn’t know what they’d hit, but it had to be something important, given that it felt like she couldn’t get a good breath for the life of her. Were her lungs filling up with blood? Had they been punctured? Her heart was also beating so fast she could see pulsing at the edge of her vision. It wasn’t like she had time to examine the wound as she ran for her life.
By the time she made it outside, doing her best to outrun him, she was already on the way. She couldn’t at the time remember where exactly she was going, but she felt that it was right. Somewhere she'd been before. She knew it had to be if she knew the directions there by heart, even if not by mind. So she let her muscle memory guide her as she tried helplessly to stay warm and stop her bleeding. She could accomplish neither by the time she made it to his door.
Somehow she knew the house. It ringed familiar as she stepped up the creaky, mite-rotted steps and banged on the door. But even still, she couldn’t remember who it belonged to. She tried to remember–but by the time she was there, her head was swimming. No thought could stick long enough for her to catch it, and the ground started to waver under her feet. So she hoped wherever she had walked to, it was somewhere she could get help.
She was losing blood. She was so cold. Whether from the rain or because she was dying. Even as the door was opening, Amanda couldn’t remember where she was. It was only when she started to faint and he threw the screen door open to catch her did she finally realize where she had walked to.
She registered him as he held her up, hair falling down in front of his face, already slick with rain. After this, she couldn’t register anything. She was too far gone. The last thing she remembered before passing out was his face staring down at her, eyes shining with shock. Or was that worry?
Mark Hoffman caught her before he even realized who she was. It was only as he tried to balance her, hold her upright, that he realized. “Amanda,” he said, suddenly breathless. “Christ.” He dragged her inside and shut the front door behind them.