Jason was alone in his cabin, and bored. He had been reading a book you recommended him a while ago, but all it made him think of was how he missed you. He was about to pick up his phone and call you when there was a knock at the door.

He went to open it, surprised anyone would come to this late at night, but there you were, injured, severely. He couldn’t tell the extent of your wounds, but your face was bruised and bloody, and your shirt was stained red in places it shouldn’t be.

He quickly wrapped an arm around your waist, helping you sit down on the ground before you collapsed. He knelt down in front of you, his hands on your cheeks.

“Who did this to you?” His voice shook with anger.