Blood blanketed Kate’s body. It soaked through her tank top and turned the formerly tan shirt a deep shade of crimson. She had lost consciousness for an undetermined amount of time and knew she probably only had minutes left until she blacked out again.
Panic was setting in, she pushed it away. Her chest wound was bleeding the most. She attempted to use her hands to put pressure on it. Maybe if she could slow down the bleeding, she would have half a chance. She tried not to think about the possibility of her attacker returning to make sure the job was finished. Kate hoped the sound of the car pulling into the driveway had scared him off.
The car door. Someone had arrived at the house before she passed out, she realized with a start. She had thought it was her mother, but she would have found Kate by now. As she tried to focus on her surroundings, she could barely make out a muffled voice calling her name from outside of the house.
Kate tried to respond, tears from the pain ran down her cheeks. The fear of death seemed to be holding her frozen. Her screams sounded like whimpers and there would be no way the sound would travel to her potential savior from her huddled form on the kitchen floor all the way through the front door. Her own blood was choking her and the hopelessness of her situation threatened her grip on sanity. Kate was a pop culture fanatic—she knew that in the movies blood gushing out of the mouth usually meant the character was a goner.
Kate summoned the last of the strength in her broken body and attempted to crawl through the darkness towards the front of the house. The kitchen floor was sticky with a mixture of blood and the Diet Coke she had dropped earlier. Her entire body cried out with each movement she made, but she forced herself to go farther. It felt like miles as she traveled only inches and she prayed that whoever was knocking at the door would not give up and leave.
Kate made it as far as the doorway separating the hallway and kitchen. Her body collapsed and she whined as she realized that she was only a few feet from the front door. The doorbell rang again and the injustice of her predicament set in. She was going to bleed out all over her mother’s Persian carpet and wait alone while the life slowly seeped out of her. Help was within reach, but still so far away. This was never the way she imagined she would die.