She couldn’t believe it happened to her again. She’d promised herself she’d dodge, duck or dive next time. She’d promised herself not to let it happen again. Yet here she sat - bleeding to death. She’d see it coming. She’d let it happen. All her own fault.
She didn’t really care. Maybe this time would be worth it.
Absently she looked at the pool of bright blood forming on the stark white tiles under her chair. Nothing a decent mop won’t wash away. No-one else seemed too bothered by the mess. The other patrons all seemed pleasantly involved in their own conversations and delectable food. Had they even seen the little cherub fly passed them? He could be quite sneaky.
She felt a little woozy. Could be the loss of blood. Could just be the 3 glasses of dry white wine she’d gulped down in the last half an hour.
It was all rather unreal. No pain. She felt rather serene, almost tingly. She thought her age would render her safe. She’d thought the little bastard would have given up on her after all these years.
Her dinner partner would be back for the bathroom soon. She’d just remain calm. He’d call an ambulance. She’d be ok. She felt very calm. Dead. Could she be dead?
‘Dana?’
‘Dana?’
Someone gently tapped her shoulder. It was her dinner partner. Oliver.
‘You okay?’ Concern in those deep green eyes.
‘Sure.’ Besides the arrow sticking out of the place where my heart is. Besides the pool of blood on the floor. ‘I was just daydreaming.’
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