Bodie presses the towel tight against Doyle's chest, but the blood won't stop. Lips tightly compressed, he presses harder... harder.
And wakes up.He raises his hands to rub across his face, feels the wetness, opens his eyes...
Blood. Blood all over his hands. Doyle's blood.
And wakes up, sweat streaking the pillow. He rises, walks through the lounge.
Doyle lies bleeding on the floor, eyes glassy and lifeless. Bleeding... bleeding.
And he wakes up. Sheets wound round his legs. He disentangles himself with drowsy difficulty. Rises. Walks through into the kitchen.
Teatowel, stained with blood. Doyle's blood. Bleeding out all over the floor.
And Bodie wakes...
