David was so shocked to hear Death Wish’s voice that he dropped the picture frame. Fortunately, it only fell onto the bed. His hands shaking with nervousness, he hastily shoved the picture frame under the pillow, which he quickly readjusted on the bed. He ran out of the bedroom and quietly closed the door behind him, hoping that Death Wish wouldn’t hear the door and realize what he had been doing. She was still standing at the door, he could hear her sporadically mumbling and swearing.
“Where the hell are you?” she asked loudly, and he could hear her mutter under her breath as he approached the door, “he probably ran off. Eff. I’m in so much trouble. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.”
David opened the door. Death Wish looked up at him, “Why the hell didn’t you say something? I thought you had left or something!”
She was holding her arm and blood was starting to seep between her fingers.
“What happened to your arm? Do you need to go to the hospital?” David nervously bumbled; he never reacted well to the sight of blood.
Death Wish looked exasperated and sighed, “No, I don’t need to go to the hospital. I might if you keep standing there and make me stand here bleeding. I just need to apply some pressure to it,” David just stood there, “which is something I can’t do in the hallway."
David blushed and moved out of her way. Death Wish limped into the apartment.
“God, what’s wrong with your leg?”
“Nothing, don’t worry about it,” she said as she entered the kitchen, “I could use some help with this,” she added as she took her hand off of her arm.
David went over to her and saw the deep gash in the side of her arm. He wasn’t an expert, but he thought it looked like a bullet had grazed her. He could feel himself getting woozy as the blood started to soak into the torn fabric of her t-shirt.“Oh, that’s right, you’re scared of blood,” she murmured, probably just to herself, “I can handle it.”