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Summary
"Quit moving, Hill. I'm trying to save your life."
In hindsight, Maria blames the blood loss. Or the frustration at being rendered fundamentally useless. Or just her stupid brain, which thought it would be a good idea to reply, "Why? Got tired of taking them?"
It startles the other woman, which manifests as a tiny twitch of a finger that Maria wouldn't have noticed if those hands weren't pressing into her.
The answer that follows catches Maria equally off-guard.
"Yes," says the Widow.
Written for Flash Fiction Friday Prompt #365 - Blood on Your Hands
Series
- Part 9 of Tumblr Prompt Fills
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