for Freddie
Maureen knew that she probably should have gone straight to the clinic. She knew there was a cut on her lip at least, and her ribs hurt like hell. But all she'd been able to think when she'd run from Patrick's hut was that she needed to get away, and even though she realized now that it was probably stupid, in case he intended to follow her, she'd instinctively run in the direction of home.
When she reached Bohemia, she paused outside her hut for a minute, hesitating. Her eyes flicked next door to where Prior lived, and then back to hers - and she saw Freddie moving in one of the windows. Oh god, she had to warn him that Patrick was fucking psychopath.
She hadn't even realized until she'd stopped running that her ankle was actually throbbing; she'd probably landed on it wrong when she'd ended up on the floor. And so she was limping a little up the steps, and then walked in.
"Freddie?" She sounded even to herself like she was about to cry.
When she reached Bohemia, she paused outside her hut for a minute, hesitating. Her eyes flicked next door to where Prior lived, and then back to hers - and she saw Freddie moving in one of the windows. Oh god, she had to warn him that Patrick was fucking psychopath.
She hadn't even realized until she'd stopped running that her ankle was actually throbbing; she'd probably landed on it wrong when she'd ended up on the floor. And so she was limping a little up the steps, and then walked in.
"Freddie?" She sounded even to herself like she was about to cry.