"I'm not hurt!" Brier says holding up up her half washed hands. His fear radiates and notches up Brier's own. The raised hands tremble.
From the small tears in the cloth, the pattern on the cloth of the blood radiating out and down from a place in her shoulder, and another from the lower left side of her stomach, one could surmise that the blood is probably hers, and that she probably lost a lot of it. Enough that her statement might seem very improbable.
On the other hand, this is a somewhat improbable place.
"I'm not hurt," she repeats. "Norma says that it happens sometimes when people come here. Wounds heal. The wounds are gone." She does not favor him with the view through the hole in the shoulder of her clothing that she afforded Norma.
no subject
From the small tears in the cloth, the pattern on the cloth of the blood radiating out and down from a place in her shoulder, and another from the lower left side of her stomach, one could surmise that the blood is probably hers, and that she probably lost a lot of it. Enough that her statement might seem very improbable.
On the other hand, this is a somewhat improbable place.
"I'm not hurt," she repeats. "Norma says that it happens sometimes when people come here. Wounds heal. The wounds are gone." She does not favor him with the view through the hole in the shoulder of her clothing that she afforded Norma.
"I'm...sorry if I scared you."