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Character A enters the dark living room to suppressed whimpers and hitched breaths.
“Character B?? You okay??” They ask, barely able to make out Bs hunched form on the couch.
“Yeah. Yeah I’m fine.” B hisses through grit teeth.
Character A furrows their brow before fumbling around for the light switch, flipping it on as they find it.
The first thing they see is Character B slumped on the couch, face a sickly pale shade.
The second thing they see is the wad of paper towels Bs got clutched against their stomach, soaking up an alarming amount of blood.
“I’m sorry, what do you mean kind-of stabbed?!”