Little over an hour ago, life was normal. About as close to normal as Karen felt she could possibly ever get after the tumultuous few months that she had just endured. She had a job, friends, a routine. Even a new apartment, which Foggy had helped her acquire. Her life was quiet, the city was quiet. She knew now that it wouldn't have lasted. In hindsight Karen wasn't sure how she could have ever expected it to. This was Hell's Kitchen, this was her life. Neither stayed quiet or uneventful for very long.
In hindsight she probably shouldn't have been surprised when she had come home to find a man waiting for her in her apartment. That had been a seemingly normal but unfortunate occurrence for her. In fact she had been overdue for a crisis all things taken into account. It had been a month or two since the last time her life had been threatened or thrown into the path of danger. He was standing in her bathroom, bracing himself up against the old porcelain sink. The light had been on when she had stepped in the door, and she'd approached with her gun drawn. Fear welling in the pit of her stomach. That fear turned into something else entirely when her eyes fell on the man. Somehow over the sound of her deafening heartbeat she could hear his laboured breathing. He was covered in blood but she wasn't sure if it was his or belonged to some other poor, unfortunate soul.
"Frank?" Her voice quivered, but she was surprised that she had even been able to make a sound. He turned to look at her then, his face was completely unreadable. There was nothing, his eyes, everything was blank. She wasn't sure why, but that the lack of expression brought the fear back almost instantly. He removed one hand removed itself from the now bloody porcelain that he had been clutching. That was a mistake. Karen rushed forward as the man crumpled. "Frank!" trying to catch him before he hit the ground. He fell into her, Karen stumbled backwards but managed to catch herself on the wall. Only narrowly avoiding ending up on her ass. She was now holding Frank up but only just barely. He was dead weight and completely unresponsive. He was breathing, but it was shallow. Karen awkwardly reached out, depositing the gun that she had in her hand for the sink so that she could firmly grab ahold of the man - without shooting him.
Karen stayed there frozen for what felt like an eternity. She could feel the blood, she assumed it was blood, seeping into her blouse. Frank's body was growing heavier by the second. She knew that she needed to do something, but she couldn't just call 911. She couldn't call Foggy or Matt. There was also no way in hell she was letting him die on her bathroom floor. The bed was only a few meters away. She just needed to get him to it. She wasn't sure how much longer she would actually be able to support his weight. Karen didn't know what condition he was in, other than bad. If him falling into her arms hadn't killed him then hopefully he would survive being dragged over to her bed.
One thing at a time, the woman told herself. Get him to the bed then figure the rest out.
One thing at a time.