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You hadn't seen him coming, you were walking and then suddenly something grabbed at your ribs and then you felt the piercing pain of something embedding deep in the flesh between them. Three times over, before you could get a good grip on your attacker and actually put some of the self defense techniques Faith and Angela had taught you to good use.
You kicked him in the crotch, not getting a good look but landing aa good enough kick for him to release you. Knife still embedded.
You ran. Ran for a while until you reached the stairs. You weren't risking anything.
When you got to the lobby of the shared APD and GBI building you continued running. The adrenaline was pushing you, you wouldn't stop until you dropped dead.
When you got up to the GBI floor, blood soaking through your outfit, dribbling out of your mouth, sweat beading on your forehead, your skin a degree paler than normal. You still didn't stop, no, not until you saw him. The one man that could save you, the one man that would try and solve who did this to you.
When he saw you, concern and panic crossed his face before he ran up to you.
He met you, arms outstretched acting as aids to hold you up, your knees buckled, he gathered you up in his arms without a second thought. He called out for a medic, but his voice was so far away from you. You drifted off peacefully, blood still spilling out of your wounds, knife still embedded.
—
When you woke up, you felt like a new person. Possibly due to the fluids hanging right next to you. You were in the hospital. Phew.
Will was sitting in a chair by your bed. You looked out the window, it was nighttime. He was asleep, snoring softly with a copy of Huckleberry Finn sitting in his lap haphazardly.
You smiled. He knew that was your favorite book, he had tried to read the first sentence to you a few times whenever you needed cheering up but it had always turned into you reading to him. Sometimes he would lay in your lap as you read the book to him. It was nice seeing the book in his hands again.
You felt your side, every once in a while you could still feel the knife rip it open but for now the uncomfortableness of the stitches masked the pain. The pain killers helped with masking your memories.
You laid there, staring at Will Trent until your eyes felt heavy and the sun started to peak through your window. You fell asleep, not worrying about your attacker because you were with someone that made you feel safe.
And when Will woke up he sat there, even though his back ached, and watched over you calmly.
The copy of Huckleberry Fin sat discarded on a table by lunchtime.