For some reason, probably the adrenaline that was only now beginning to wear off, I found myself giggling softly. My calf was throbbing in time with my pulse and I didn't know whether or not I really would need stitches, but it was unreasonably funny to me that that's where Eddie drew the line.

"We'll clean it up and look at it first," I said as we helped each other up the stairs and into the shared restroom with the showers and sinks. I had to undo my jeans and peel them down carefully, avoiding the long slashes up the length of my calf, but when I twisted to get a better look at them they turned out not to be as bad as I had feared. The angry scar on my thigh from where Peter had stabbed me was worse.

"I'll be okay," I told Eddie, then wet a cloth in the sink and brought it over to him, hesitating just for a moment before I gently began to wipe some of the blood from his cheek. He had saved me. I loved him so much.