Amanda’s eyes were anything but focused as your trembling voice spoke.

of course this was a bad idea. there was no proper medical equipment. Kramer was on his deathbed. you were scared shitless.

she snapped out of her trance at her name from your lips- it was nervous, but stern enough to grapple her attention.

”Do you want John to live, or not?” you spoke, and she immediately responded.

“yes, yes. i want him to fucking live.”

she cast a nervous eye to his weary form, her lip drawing blood from how hard she nibbled on the dry skin there.

you nodded, snapping on a pair of cheap rubber gloves, and rolled your shoulders out of discomfort from the weight of the armed collar round your neck.

one wrong move— and you’re dead.