Too much blood. Too much blood is dripping. He’ll smell it. He’ll find me.
Once again, she stopped for a moment and leaned against a wall under the flashing red bulbs and the piercing alarm. She inhaled and drew the blood back into her body through the poorly sealed gash that arced over her shoulder. A dozen rivulets trickled up her bare arm.
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“What do you think I should do?” I was half-teasing. I didn’t expect anyone to decide for me. But I did want to know what she thought.
“I’d prefer you not die a painful death,” Gina said. She blinked a bit too quickly and took a slow and measured breath. She was still struggling to compose herself. “But whatever you decide, I’ll stand by you.”
“Like you’ve been doing,” I said. “For thirty years.” I knew she felt as if she failed me because she couldn’t be the one to figure out how to fix us. But it wasn’t on her shoulders, what happened. It wasn’t on any one person’s shoulders.
I only have a few days left to make the decision. Should I choose the rock? Or the hard place?
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