Focus.
"Marina." I keep my voice soft. Steady. "I'm going to dress you now. We need to move."
She doesn't respond.
Her eyes are open.
But there's nothing behind them.
Empty.
Hollow.
Like someone reached inside her and scooped out everything that made herher.
"Cazzo."
I've seen this before.
Soldiers after their first firefight. Civilians caught in crossfire. People who watched their world shatter in seconds.
Shock.
She's in shock.
I grab her shirt from the floor. The tank top she was wearing before I stripped it off her.
Before I had my mouth between her thighs.
Before someone tried to put a bullet through her window.
"Arms up, cara."
Nothing.
I lift her arms myself.
She lets me.
No resistance. No help. Just... compliance.
Like a child letting a parent dress them for school.
I slide the shirt over her head. Guide her arms through the holes. Pull it down over her stomach.
Her underwear is somewhere.
I find them near the wall.
"Stand up."
She doesn't move.
I hook my hands under her arms and lift her.
My wound tears.hurts.
Don't care.
