[Gore imagery]
You don't know what draws you down, through the building that still murmurs with too many people within its walls. It wasn't this inhabited the first time you arrived, several days ago, and something about the hints of warm bodies sets the hair on the back of your neck on end. You're pulled forward through dim hallways though, to a room that echoes with tile and steel. There is no scent of food here, but a metallic meat tang hangs heavy in the air. It's what's been pulling you forward.
The floor is old, and seen better days, but it's light enough to contrast the slick red spread across it. At the middle is a figure, second-hand familiar to you, and in a pile of stained and tattered dress. Your feet carry you to the edge of the slick, toeing the line between grey and red. Looking down at her, it's hard to believe what you're seeing. The skirt of her dress is pushed up far enough to reveal that a man had been there earlier, and while that makes you angry in a way you can't describe, the blood steals your attention. Her chest is covered in it, a long gash nearly hidden by the broad acres of red. It takes a moment for you to fight down unfamiliar panic and nausea, and you finally manage to reach down to check for her pulse. It's there, but not easy to find, and you distantly hear yourself begging her to hang on. Her pulse is enough to reassure you that she'll make it if you move her, and though it makes you nervous, you slip an arm beneath her legs, the other behind her back, and take her someplace that someone will be able to help her.