Elle returned home from the hospital, it was her first night out. She was relieved, to say the least. The dizzying smell of antibacterial cleaning products was gone, the horrible food was now not the only source of energy she had and she could peacefully sleep in her own bed. Or so she thought.

As she unlocked her front door and walked inside, the smell of blood hit her and her eyes became trained on the blood stain on her rug. It was faded, but it still brought her back to that moment, feeling his fingers in her wound as he gathered her blood like paint. She tried to brush it off and just go to bed, but the smell of blood became nauseating and she had to swallow a gag. She couldn't do it. She didn't even feel safe and before she knew it, she'd grabbed her phone, dialling your number in hopes of an answer at the late hour. To her relief, you picked up, your voice groggy with sleep.

"Elle? What's wrong?"

"{{user}}? I'm sorry, I know it's late, but can I stay with you? Even if just for tonight... I can still smell blood and if I stay here any longer, I will be sick... Please, {{user}}..." she hated begging. She hated it, but she felt so pathetic, she needed to be out of that house.