There was so much red on the floor—so much.
I swear I thought I was going to die, truly.
In the unconscious motion of brushing my hair back behind my ears, I smeared my face with blood; I felt cold on my cheeks where the fluids left their mark on my skin. I looked at that blood-soaked hand as if it weren’t mine, even so. The red color on my fingers, blurred by tears and by the trembling that clenched my muscles, brought to my ears the furious growling of the feline creature, and Alexander’s voice telling me—
“Johanna! Johanna, can you hear me?”
I felt his hands on my shoulders and let out a scream of horror.
“It’s me, Johanna!” he said again, and my eyes found his face. He had a mark on his cheek, of blood and mud. “Talk to me! How are you?”
“My shoulder! You’re hurting me!” I scream
