CHAPTER 72

"Hey Woody, can you pass me the bag with my clothes in them? There's a draft in here," I shiver under the blanket. He nods and rummages around in the back, handing me a plastic bag with my bloodied clothes in them. I take them out slowly, realising my top is stained with my own blood beyond repair. I grimace and hesitate, passing the fabric between my hands —
"Here, take this." Woody says softly, pulling his grey hoody over his head. He's only wearing a short sleeved shirt underneath...