"Florence?! What the hell is that horrible noise you're making?!" Florence freezes midway through putting away a metal pot. She meets Freddie's eyes with a heartbreaking look of terror. All the tension that Freddie had released in the past hour and a half comes rushing back to Florence.
"Just putting away some pans from making dinner." Florence calls back. Go, now! She mouths frantically to Freddie, but it's too late. Mr. Aleskei stomps into the kitchen and sees Freddie still in his house.
"I thought I told you to leave, young man." Freddie opens his mouth to respond but Florence speaks faster.
"It's my fault, Mr. Aleskei. He stayed to help me with dinner. He was just about to leave." Mr. Aleskei ignores Florence, consumed in an angry rage. He knocks Florence aside with a blow to the temple. She crumples to the ground.
"No! Florence!" Freddie cries out in fear as the old man grabs a large kitchen knife from the counter. Florence stirs, moved by the terror beside her. Mr. Aleskei raises the knife above his head and takes a step towards Freddie. She stumbles to her feet and launches herself at Freddie. He hears a quick intake of breath as they tumble to the ground. Freddie knocks Mr. Aleskei's legs out from under him and he hits the ground with a solid thud. His chest moves up and down with each breath but otherwise he is still. "Florence..." Freddie gently moves Florence off of his chest. His hand moves across her back and come away sticky. He pulls back his hand and sees its covered in blood. Florence's blood. His pulse races as he searches for her. It's there. Barely. He spots the phone on the wall and leaps up. "911, what's your emergency?" Freddie remembers calling so many times after his step father beat his mother half to death. "627 Reviere Avenue. Unconscious female. Faint pulse. Stab wound across her back, in between her shoulder blades. Please hurry." "An ambulance is on its way. Please hold." Freddie sets the phone down and rushes back to Florence's side, applying pressure to the wound as he holds her gently in his arms. Minutes feel like lifetimes as Freddie waits for the ambulance, feeling Florence's life flow out between his fingers. At last he hears the sirens. The door crashes open and personnel rush in. A team of medics attend to Florence and a policeman approaches Freddie. The noise brings Mr. Aleskei back to consciousness. Freddie follows the officer outside to answer his questions. Yes, it was Mr. Aleskei wielding the knife. Yes, Freddie took him down in self defense. Yes, Mr. Aleskei has displayed violent tendencies before. No, Freddie is of no blood or legal relation to either Florence or Mr. Aleskei. The officer walks away, leaving Freddie alone to watch as they do compressions on Florence's thin chest, a pool of blood underneath her. Someone shouts about feeling a heartbeat. The officer leads Mr. Aleskei out in handcuffs. A minute later, the medic team races Florence out on a stretcher, holding an IV above her as the climb into the back of the ambulance. Her porcelain skin shows no hint of life. The ambulance doors close and they take off, the police car not far behind. The silence haunts Freddie, eerie in the wake of the commotion. He knows Florence won't be coming back. He prays, that if there is a God above, He acts on behalf of His angel on earth. He prays that wherever Florence may be, she is safe.
