It was just past 10:30 at night. Through the curtains, a sinister wind howled outside. Erin Lowell, having changed into clean clothes, picked up the first-aid kit she had prepared on the table and knocked on the door across the hall.
She only knocked twice before pulling her hand back, waiting patiently at the door.
After about two long minutes, just as she was about to raise her hand to knock again, the door opened from the inside.
The sight of his bloody hands caught her completely off guard.
Zane Jennings was holding a jacket, his short black hair covered in dust. He looked like he was about to leave. Surprise filled his eyes. "What are you doing here?"
Erin Lowell's gaze was a little dazed. She explained her reason for coming, "Since you don't want to go to the hospital, let me treat it for you."
Her voice was soft, the apology written all over her face. Her tone was a mixture of concession and helplessness.
