I sat on the bed. Blood covered my hands, my arms, my shirt. It was annoying and sticky, but I wasn't upset.
I almost missed being covered in blood.
The room was silent now except for the fucker's whimpering near the foot of the bed.
He really needed to shut up. It was just a little stab wound, he was being a baby about it.
Seriously, over reacting to the Nth degree.
His friend, the one who shot Jian Yuche, stood at the front of the crowd, his gun raised, the barrel pointed at the four men kneeling in a line. I... didn't like seeing them on their knees.
My lip twitched as I tried to figure out exactly why I hated the sight of it.
Cocking my head to the side, I waited for someone to move.
The survivors filled the doorway, this bodies pressed together as if they were watching a drama.
