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The imperfect red petals.
“I just walked by there,” he said. “Wish I didn’t. Really could’ve gone without seeing them moving her body out.”
Imperfect red petals.
“Don’t feel too bad,” Dean continued, and Saff’s eyes finally broke away from her hands to stare up at him. “She probably would’ve died soon anyway, with the way this place is going. Only a matter of time before some group of raiders gets in and kills ‘em all.”
Saff stared at him, unable to speak, barely able to process the words flowing from his mouth.
Dean snorted. “You know, dying that way was probably better than what she would’ve gotten from them, anyway. Baby too.”
And that’s when she felt it. The irreparable snap in her chest.
She lunged forward off of the bench and threw a hard punch, plowing into the side of his jaw.
He fell a few steps back, and when he looked back up at her, she could see a satisfied look on his face, almost like he’d been waiting for it.
Like he’d wanted it.
Then he shot forward, tackling her onto the ground in one swift movement.
A smear of pain spread through her back as she landed half on the sidewalk and half on the pavement, with her spine smashing against the edge of the curb.
He threw one hard punch down that connected with her temple before she could get her hands up to block it, sending a thrumming ache through her head.
But before he could get another hit in, she swung her knee up into his stomach.
The force knocked him backward a few inches as he yelped.
Saff took the opening. With more space between them, she kicked hard against the center of his chest.
His body tumbled backwards, sprawling onto the pavement.
She pushed up, ready to continue. But then she saw the blood on her hands and arms once again.
She stopped.
What was the point? Fighting Dean over some stupid thing he’d said wouldn’t change what happened. It wouldn’t make any difference at all.
She cast a last glare at Dean, watching as he slowly stood, cradling a hand against his ribs.
She shook her head slightly, then turned and slowly began walking back to the medical ward.
Maybe she could pull herself together enough to at least help with whatever they needed next.
She glanced down at her hands and arms again. The crusted blood and fluid were still there, but some had been wiped off during the fight.
Still imperfect red petals—
Suddenly, her head ripped back, an agonizing cry ripping from her throat.
Stumbling backward, she caught one quick glimpse of Dean before he threw a punch into her temple.
The pain was immediate, rippling through her head.
And before she could react, he was on her again. But this time, he wrapped his arm around her throat in a choke hold, the pressure instantly cutting off any airflow.
She twisted her body, trying to get to the side to kick her leg out behind his knee.