He might not have struck anything vital, but he was continuous with puncture wounds and intense pain was constant. It left the blond detective feeling light headed at best. There was blood staining her face and the sheets of that bed. It was even dripping down to the ground and pooling underneath the bed onto the floor. Her green eyes watched him even as he blurred in and out.
She couldn't even feel the coldness of that room anymore, it was as if her body had gone on auto pilot to try to protect itself the only way it could. It didn't help with the bleeding though. She could no longer make a fist, she couldn't do much except breathe and it was becoming labored and shallow.
Blond hair began to stick to her face as she tried to fight off the mental fog that threatened to take over. Her once green eyes seemed almost gray. He was saying something about Dean and she tried to focus, but focusing was next to impossible with just how much her head was starting to throb. Dean told her about hell, but the news that he enjoyed it was the unbelievable part, and yet watching Alastair enjoy himself with his knives she wasn't sure what to believe. She really didn't have the energy for much mental debate. She didn't even have the energy to cry anymore.