Sophia Jackson's legs were still weak, and she could hardly stand. There were bloodstains on her face from the shooting earlier, splattered on her by the wounded man.
Jane tried to wipe the blood off her face, but his hands were so dirty that he only made it worse. He couldn't help but laugh: "You look like a little painted cat."
Sophia raised her hand and slapped Jane on the arm, "I really appreciate that, why didn't you just knock me unconscious?"
Jane: "You're still strong; you should be fine."
Sophia had nothing more to say and turned to walk away. She saw Frank Smith standing there and slowed down, walking slowly over to him: "Frank Smith."
She called out.
Frank turned to look at her, "Were you scared just now?"
Sophia nodded, "Yes, I was."
Frank looked downcast, "Don't come here again."
Sophia knew why he was feeling down - the things that had just happened, the people who had died in front of him, and the blood stains on his body that couldn't be washed away...
