"Shit..." I say, just standing there like an asshole, unsure of what to even do. Taking a step toward her, I say it again, "Shit," reaching out a hand and resting it on her arm.

Covered in blood. So it wasn't something quiet. She didn't get sick. She didn't drift off in her sleep. It was bloody and probably awful and-- Shit.

"You wanna... I dunno, find someplace to sit? You look like you need it."