Chapter 23. Roar

Carla was hysterical as she tried to rouse Mark from unconsciousness, her hands, wet and slimy from his flowing blood, gripping his face.

He looked like a broken, bloody mess in her arms, his usually tan skin appearing pale as the puddle of blood beneath them grew larger and larger.

"Oh f*ck, Oh f*ck. Oh f*ck!" Carla cursed as she gripped him by his underarms and began pulling him towards the bed, gently, so as not to aggravate the numerous injuries covering him.

She paused when she reached the bed and stared intensely at his still chest, her breath caught in her throat.

The thought of holding his corpse causes her body to begin trembling but she forced herself to stay still so she could see if the lack of movement was real or a figment of her shaken mind.

There was movement, almost unnoticeable but it was there and that was all the push she needed to heave his body onto the bed and rush off to get the medical supplies.

Carla's body moved on autopilot as