Lana kept turning to check on the Detective, too -- he was looking paler and paler, and he almost stumbled when the intercom came on.
She barely heard the sing-song voice, though, because as soon as it started, blood bloomed across his chest, just like it had when Chief Gant had been stabbed. But there was nothing in the hallway except the two of them. She looked down at her hands.
Blood covered them, too, but none of it was her own. It was drying quickly, almost tacky now. It had splashed up her arms, just like it had that night, as she'd tried to stop the bleeding.
That was what she saw. What anyone else would see was Lana Skye, standing stock-still in the hallway, flashlight tucked idly under her chin, looking down at hands that were clean at the beginning of the broadcast. By the end of it, however, a small circle of red had appeared on her left hand, perfectly framed by the beam of the flashlight.
no subject
She barely heard the sing-song voice, though, because as soon as it started, blood bloomed across his chest, just like it had when Chief Gant had been stabbed. But there was nothing in the hallway except the two of them. She looked down at her hands.
Blood covered them, too, but none of it was her own. It was drying quickly, almost tacky now. It had splashed up her arms, just like it had that night, as she'd tried to stop the bleeding.
That was what she saw. What anyone else would see was Lana Skye, standing stock-still in the hallway, flashlight tucked idly under her chin, looking down at hands that were clean at the beginning of the broadcast. By the end of it, however, a small circle of red had appeared on her left hand, perfectly framed by the beam of the flashlight.