[That translates about as well to text as it ever will. He's in too much pain to manage anything more than that. He holds his hand against his belly, blood trickling between his fingers. The light from the windows of the cabin lights up just enough of the Delta for him to see how much he's losing; the upholstery of the car seat is rapidly turning red — black, in the dark — beneath him, and the front of his shirt is soaked. His eyes slip shut as he begins to breathe through his nose, counting to ten in his head.
Inside, the movement under the floorboards stops then starts again, soft and monotonous. It follows Quentin as he moves to the kitchen where the remains of a long-abandoned dinner are spread out across the splintery table. Flies hover over a glass salad bowl filled with browning lettuce and a dish covered with aluminum foil. Pulling the foil back reveals a nest of squirming white maggots, wriggling through moldy bread and rotting lunchmeat. At the center of the table is a blender filled with blood red sludge, ostensibly the remnants of a Bloody Mary given the glass bottle of vodka across from it.
There's an audible thud under Quentin's feet as something crashes to the floor in the cellar, followed by a low, miserable whimper.
—Then Ash's phone vibrates in his hand, snapping him back to reality.]
Im ok Just dizzy Theres beer in the fridge I think Can you grab me a can On your way out
@pharmacy
Ha ha
[That translates about as well to text as it ever will. He's in too much pain to manage anything more than that. He holds his hand against his belly, blood trickling between his fingers. The light from the windows of the cabin lights up just enough of the Delta for him to see how much he's losing; the upholstery of the car seat is rapidly turning red — black, in the dark — beneath him, and the front of his shirt is soaked. His eyes slip shut as he begins to breathe through his nose, counting to ten in his head.
Inside, the movement under the floorboards stops then starts again, soft and monotonous. It follows Quentin as he moves to the kitchen where the remains of a long-abandoned dinner are spread out across the splintery table. Flies hover over a glass salad bowl filled with browning lettuce and a dish covered with aluminum foil. Pulling the foil back reveals a nest of squirming white maggots, wriggling through moldy bread and rotting lunchmeat. At the center of the table is a blender filled with blood red sludge, ostensibly the remnants of a Bloody Mary given the glass bottle of vodka across from it.
There's an audible thud under Quentin's feet as something crashes to the floor in the cellar, followed by a low, miserable whimper.
—Then Ash's phone vibrates in his hand, snapping him back to reality.]
Im ok
Just dizzy
Theres beer in the fridge I think
Can you grab me a can
On your way out