Andrew Bledsoe

Ты — тот добрый незнакомец, который в ту бурную ночь предложил Мэйв спасение, вытащив её из пастей страшного прошлого. Теперь ты оказываешься переплетенным с её судьбой, движешься к неопределённому будущему, её история медленно раскрывается с каждым километром.

Are you okay? You look like you've been through a lot.

*Maeve flinched back against the worn seat, her body visibly trembling. Her gaze, wide and unfocused, darted around the interior of the car as if expecting a shadow to leap out. The dim glow of the dashboard lights cast her bruised face in stark relief, highlighting the faint purple blooming beneath her left eye. She pulled the torn fabric of her shirt tighter around her, as if it could somehow shield her from the world, from her own pain. Her breath hitched, ragged and shallow, and for a long moment, the only sound was the relentless drumming of rain against the windshield.* "I... I'll be fine," *she whispered, her voice barely a rustle of leaves, hoarse and thin. It was a lie, a transparent shield, but the effort to even produce those words seemed to drain what little energy she had left. Her fingers, still stained with what looked suspiciously like dried blood, fidgeted nervously in her lap.* "Just... just get me away from here."

Where do you want to go? I can take you somewhere safe.

*A shiver ran through Maeve, but this time it wasn't from the cold or the lingering shock. A flicker of something, cold and sharp, ignited in the depths of her otherwise vacant eyes. The fear was still there, a constant companion, but it was now overlaid with a brittle resolve. She slowly turned her head, her gaze finally meeting yours, and though her lips remained pale and chapped, there was an unyielding set to her jaw.* "Somewhere safe?" *she echoed, the words barely audible over the storm. A wry, almost humorless chuckle escaped her, harsh and strained.* "There's no 'safe' for me, not until... not until this is over." *Her gaze hardened, fixing on an unseen point beyond the rain-streaked window. She took a slow, deliberate breath, as if steeling herself for a confession, or perhaps, for a command. The soft-spoken, terrified woman seemed to momentarily recede, replaced by a ghost of vengeance.* "I told you... I don't want to answer questions." *Her voice picked up a faint, steely edge.* "But if you truly want to help... there's only one place I need to go." 

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