04.

"What were you thinking?" Hunter asked calmly. But Trish knew better than to trust his calm composure. She knew he was psycho. He knelt down to face to her, to see her eye to eye. "What were you thinking?" He whispered again.

Trish struggled away from him. "Get away," She whispered. "I don't want to look at you." Hunter frowned. "So, is that how it is?" He pushed her head back to look at him. "I get Benoit off your hands and you get pissy."

"What did you do to help me?" Trish demanded, feeling a sudden wave of courage against Hunter. "Benoit is my friend! You killed him!"

Hunter rolled his eyes. "I didn't kill him. He's probably still alive, unfortunately." Trish stood up so fast, that the chair she was sitting fell over. She faced him, which was hard, considering he was a foot taller than she was.

"How can you live with yourself, knowing that you're a sick bastard?" Trish asked. No emotion was in her voice. She just wanted to know the answer—And she wanted to know now. "How?" She asked, her voice rising.

He glared at her. "You have the gall to say that to me after I took your sorry ass in?" He roared. "You DARE say that to me?"

"Oh, fuck you, Hunter!" Trish screamed. "Why the fuck did I let you walk all over me in the first place? I can hold my own very well without you!"

He laughed. It surprised Trish, as she thought he was going to throw her against the wall. Though his laugh was calm, it was crazy and sadistic. "Sure, Trish. Go out on your own. But once you're back here on your knees begging me, I am not going to take you back."

"I would never even DREAM of coming back," Said Trish. She slammed the door behind her, hopefully leaving for good.

*

Benoit moaned and clutched his head. He was lucky to be alive. It had been a half-hour since the attack, and no one came to help him yet. "Fuck," he muttered. He had to keep his hands on the gash on his head. It hurt like a bitch when it hit solid ground.

He still couldn't feel anything below his neck. He didn't know if he was hearing things or not, but he thought he heard a faint sounds of high heeled boots. He also saw a familiar blonde woman running down the hall.

"Trish?" She knelt down next to him, hovering over him. She slipped off her jacket. She gently took his hands from behind his head and wrapped her jacket around it. He was still bleeding. Her jacket was ruined, but she didn't care.

She nodded meekly. "I am so sorry," She whispered. "I am so sorry I didn't come fast enough." He tried to nod himself, but it hurt so much. "I-it's okay," he croaked, "as long as you're here. Are you okay?"

Trish wanted to cry from his concern. "Yeah," She gulped, "I got away from Hunter." She gave him a warm smile and held his hand. "I called the ambulance. They'll be here soon."

Chris returned the smile. "I am so happy for you." His hand felt limp in hers. "Hey," He said, shaking weakly, "after I get my head sown back together, would you like to go out for coffee?"

Trish laughed, swallowing her tears. "I'd like that." She nodded. Before she could say anything else, the ambulance rushed to the scene.

"Miss," One man said as they loaded Benoit onto the stretcher, "only immediate family is allowed on the ambulance with him. Are you his wife?"

"No," Trish shook her head sadly.

"Guys," Benoit said, "let her come."