A loud bang erupts through the room.
I wrap my left arm around Asya's middle, pulling her out of the way so the dead man's body won't hit her when it swings back. I don't think she even noticed me standing right behind her.
I take the gun out of her hand, sliding the safety on, and carry her out of the house.
When we reach the car, I throw the gun onto the back seat and lower Asya to the ground, turning her to face me.
Her hand and the sleeve of her yellow coat are covered in blood spatter.
I unbutton and take the coat off her, throwing it onto the back seat as well. Then, I pull off my own jacket and manage to get Asya's arms into the sleeves, zipping her into its warmth.
She doesn't say anything while I get her dressed. Her eyes seem vacant as she stares in front of her. I don't think she's even aware of me.
I shouldn't have let her do this.
When she took the gun and turned toward the son of a bitch, I was certain she'd change her mind.
