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Show "Don't worry," said the man, removing the tape from his own arm and withdrawing the needle as quickly as he safely could. "Just hold on. It'll be all right, I'll help you." She was bleeding badly. Blood ran from her arm down to her hand and dripped from her fingers. She did not seem to notice. "I don't want your help," she said. Her voice was unbearably calm. "This is my mess, I'll take care of it myself." Then she started away from the cot. "Wait," he said, standing now himself, "you don't know what's happened. You don't know what's out there." "I don't care what's out there." Everyone at the front of the building had moved away from the broken window. The empty wine bottle which had done the damage lay curiously intact on the floor. The curtains swayed back and forth in the breeze, and outside it had again started to rain. The girls behind the counter spoke loudly and excitedly, while others spoke in nervous whispers, but everyone was for a moment silent as the woman with the blood-smeared face and dripping fingers made her way toward the door. Then the door opened. Across the street, the man with the broken nose was being wrestled into the back of a police car. When he saw the woman emerging from "Pacific Biologies" he raised his fist in the air. "Hey," he shouted. "You." The lights turning on top of the police car, one blue and one red, made slick alternating reflections on the wet pavement. "Hey," yelled the drunk, "who in the hell do you think you are?" |