He increased his pace, striding swiftly through the recently-repaired glass door. The girl at the desk was his familiar; Hayden jumped to her feet, shock and fear written clearly on her pale face. "Scott-- Scott, I thought you were dead." He shook his head.
"I don't have time to chat. Where's Aly?" She pointed, and at the same time there was a loud, dull thud-- the sound of a body hitting the floor. Scott's eyes met the eyes of Hayden, and there was something else there: a nameless guilt. He ran.
The first thing he noted, due to his hardened instincts, was the blood. Blood everywhere: on the bed, on the floor, on the wall. The second thing he noted, due to his weakened heart, was the girl, thrown carelessly on the floor, one leg still laying against the bed, the other curled awkwardly beneath her, arms splayed out to the sides. Her bandages had been torn, and both of her burning, golden eyes were fixed on the door. Some of her life's blood was still leaving her body by means of her sof