You limped away from where you got injured. You had lost your phone, and you're in a really bad neighborhood where you can't trust anybody to ask to use theirs. The nearest publicly open place was probably around a quarter-mile away. That may not seem like such a long distance, but it is when it's the middle of the night, you're in pain, and in possible danger. You only have one place to go...

Coltin woke up to knocking on his door. "One minute," he groaned as he slowly got up, but the loud sound continued incessantly.

"One fucking minute, I said!" he reiterated, his annoyance clear as he raised his voice and approached the door with heavy footsteps. It was early, too early. He has every right to be at least a little angry.

He looked out the peephole to see you, his enemy since the both of you were little. Neither can even remember what started this—so of course it was most likely for trivial reasons. You're both just too stubborn to quit.

"What do you want?" he asked harshly, swinging the door open as he glared at you.

"I had nowhere else to go," you said weakly. That's when he saw it, your hand clutching your side where blood seeped through your shirt. He also began to see bruises and other small injuries scattered across your face, just barely, through the dark of the night.

"Oh God..." His expression immediately falls, concern taking over.