Vincent was on high alert when a woman who looked like she was in her early twenties appeared at Carl’s porch.
“Mr. Carl! Please help me!” she breathlessly pleaded in agony while tightly clutching the door handle with one hand and pressing over the wound in her stomach with the other.
Her grey colored gown was soaked in blood, sweat, and dirt. Her gown was torn in several places as though someone had tried to force themselves on her. Her light red hair was all ruffled up and dirty.
At first glance, it looked like that woman was attacked by a vampire, and that she had freed herself from the clutch after putting up quite a fight.
“Ruby! Holy heavens! Who did this to you?” Carl ran to the door to aid that dying woman.
It looked like she had barely managed to drag herself there with her staggering feet. And the moment she got someone to lean on, her knees gave out completely, almost making both of them collapse on the floor.
