Valeria Brinstrone just stabbed a man after grappling for a switch blade with him. She is still straddling him, gaping at the knife buried in his abdomen in shock while he moaned in pain underneath her.
"I am already in pain, can you get off me now," he moaned.
Realising that she is still literally sitting on him, she scrambled up and stood over him. She looked around. No one saw it.
Should she just bail and run away?
There were no witnesses and this man had wanted to stab her earlier so he deserved what he got, she thought.
"Don't you dare run off!" the man gasped. He grabbed the switch blade and pulled it out of him, gasping and groaning as he did it. After pulling it out, he dropped it and lay back down groaning softly, his eyes fluttering close.
She winced and cringed as she watched him do it, imagining the pain he must be feeling right now.
Then her eyes widened and she rubbed her eyes to be sure if she was seeing it right. Still not believing what she saw, she took out her cell phone and turned on its torchlight and shone it on his wound.
He was wearing a black hoodie but under the bright glare of her torchlight, it should be stained red from his blood but it wasn't. Instead, a black viscous liquid was oozing out of the hole made by the switch blade.
Bile rose in her throat and she gagged.
"Wa….what in the blazes are you??" she asked, staggering back in fear. What human oozes thick black gooey blood?
The man, or whatever he is, is still conscious but barely. He looked at her, his silvery eyes is now a dull grey.
"Help me, please," he murmured.
"Hey, you wanted to stab me first!" she told him.
"I know lady, that's my job, help me now otherwise, others like me will finish the job and I promise you, you won't be able to escape," he told her, his voice fading and ebbing.
Against her common sense and all the warning bells going off in her head, Valeria went to place newspapers on the back seat of her car first. She has to be practical. No one wants black goo all over their expensive leather seat.
Then she picked up the switch blade which is covered in the same sticky black goo and held it between her forefinger and thumb, away from her expensive designer clothes (the stain will never wash out!) and dropped it on the floor of the front passenger seat of her car which is also covered in newspapers (because one can never be too careful).
Then she grabbed the man by his armpits and lifted him, carefully making sure not to drag him too close to her clothes. Because stains!
"Phew, you are sure heavy!" she grunted as she dragged him to the open door of the back seat of her car.
"I am not heavy!" the man or creature that looks like man or man oozing black blood, protested.
"I have carried bags full of rice and bricks and cement and based on my experience, I can safely say you are heavier than those things, not all together of course, but still," she told him factually as she placed him half sitting against her car and stood back, panting.
"Phew…I am not sure I can get you up on the seat, can you maybe crawl up?" she asked him reasonably.
His half opened eyes widened and he looked at her.
"Crawl? You effing stabbed me…the least you could do is to carry me up," he exclaimed indignantly.
"Well, if you can talk so loudly, then I am sure you have no problem crawling up," she responded, crossing her arms over her chest.
She is not gonna stain her nice designer clothes by carrying him up. She is wearing an off-white dress and a nice tan-coloured overcoat today too. She already risked staining it when she grabbed his armpits to drag him to her car.
Muttering under his breath, the man or creature or thing that looks like man shifted and grimaced as he slowly lifted himself into the car and then crawled to lie down flat on the backseat of her car.
"What the…why am I lying on newspapers," he muttered as the newspapers crinkled and rustled underneath him. She ignored his whiny complaints and went to close the door. She glanced at her watch.
Dammit. It's past 9.30pm.
The store is closed. No thanks to this black blood oozing creature-man-thing, she thought.
Now, her monster-in-law will tear her a new one, she thought. She shuddered. She doesn't relish the thought of driving home empty-handed. Her majesty the monster-in-law expects a whole new selection of the latest lame-ass glossy magazines and she can't give it to her.
She got into the driver's seat, shut her door and locked it. Then she started the engine and turned up the heat. It was toe-curlingly freezing outside, she could barely feel her nose. She turned to glare at the man lying on her backseat, still oozing black goo from the hole she made in his abdomen.
"Dammit, you are oozing all over my car," she told him. She grabbed her large tote bag and dug around in it. She found a spare scarf inside. It's not a designer scarf. This will have to do.
She threw it at him. "Here, hold this against your wound and stop the oozing black goo," she told him.
He took it and placed it against his wound, groaning.
"So, do I take you to the hospital or what? But first, are you even human? Or do you have some weird disease that makes your blood turn black and thick?" she asked him in a matter-of-fact manner.
Then she remembered. She stabbed him. Taking him to the hospital will mean explaining what happened to him and that will mean she will be arrested for assault.
Uh-uh. Nope.
"Tell you what, if you don't die in my car, I'll take you back and try to stop your bleeding," she told him. She strapped in, put the car in gear and started driving.
"I just need a drop of human blood," he gasped weakly.
"What did you say?" she hit the brakes and they came to a sudden stop, flinging him almost off the seat and to the floor. He grunted in pain, his hands reaching out to stop himself from rolling to the floor.
"Can you even drive lady," he mumbled.
"You just said you wanted human blood, how do you expect me to react? Dance with joy? Sing a song of happiness?" she retorted.
"I said a drop, not a gallon, jeez lady, don't be so dramatic," he replied.
"For someone who's dying from a fatal wound to his abdomen, you sure have a lot of sass especially against your saviour," she told him. She drove the car to the far corner of the parking lot and put it on park.
"Please lady, don't make me laugh, you are far from my saviour," he retorted.
She rolled her eyes. So here we have a smart aleck who continues to be smart mouthed despite his desperate situation.
"Okay, fine, then I'll wait here and let you ooze to your death and then I'll discard you in one of the large dumpsters there, how about that?" she threatened him.
"I…can't…die…" he murmured. He seemed to be losing consciousness.
Panic begin to set in. She can't actually let him die in her car, despite her threats.
That's too much of a mess to clean up.
Besides, he is too heavy for her to drag out of her car and drag to the dumpster and drag up to the dumpster to dump. Oh my gawd. Her dress will be ruined. Her overcoat will be ruined. Her expensive leather seats might be ruined too.
She undo her seatbelt and then turned to lean half her body towards the back seat.
"Hey dude, don't die. I was kidding," she told him, slapping his face to wake him up. He opened his strange grey eyes. They were unfocused and filled with pain.
"Just… one drop…..on the wound," he murmured and then the eyes closed and he lost consciousness.
&^$&#@$%^%^*@#$% !!!!
She let loose a string of expletives. What should she do now? Should she listen to him?
"Hey dude, you don't even know my blood type or whether I have some weird STIs and you want my blood?" she mumbled. He didn't reply.
"Fine, I'll do as you say, just don't come back and sue me for contaminating your blood or anything, asshole," she said.
She sat back down and took her tote bag to dig inside again. She found an emergency sewing kit and took out a needle. She pricked her finger and squeezed out a drop of blood.
She again scrambled stretch half her body to the back seat and carefully let the drop of blood drip on his wound.
It fizzled, startling her to move back to the front immediately. She stared at his wound as smoke curled up from it.