Touch - Matt Murdock

Part Eight

Deaths Doorstep
TW: gore, violence, intimate scenes

Metal slides into her socket and splits her bone, mushing her brain apart and the squelching sound fills her ears. She felt numb fill her entire body and the coldness the metal left in her body. Her nose smacking against the floor, she struggled to move, her limbs tingling as the blood rushed out of her faster than she could heal. Her guts hanging, the holes left in her were large and left shrapnel in her flesh, the crunching noise her lungs made as she inhaled what she could before it squealed out without an exhale. Holes left in her too large to stitch. This was it. Not even the drugs she was pumped on could stop it.

An ugly gasp forced its way through her throat. Matts head turning to the sound of her lungs reanimating, her heart turning warm again. He wiped his tears, shock recoiling him from his sitting position on his loveseat as he ran to his sofa where she laid. Frank on the roof reading the files they collected on the organization BlackBird.

She shook, her skin filling with color as the drugs that were on a pause in her system started flowing again. She coughed, stomach bile spitting onto the floor as Matt grips her lower back, holding her tight as she puked. Blood and shrapnel clicking against the floor as her lungs started to force the metal and gunpowder out. Her coughing growing intense and her gasping worsening. Matt helped her sit up, his hand on her chest as blood started to leak through the bandages wrapped around her torso.

Slicing noises filled his ears as he listens to her body function. Her lungs shrinking and expanding, slowly working as the shrapnel found its way up her throat. Yet it sliced it on the way up. She gags it out, the metal clattering on the floor and the plastic lining falling into her lap. Her blood and stomach lining stuck on the outside.

She gasped shakily, the pain washing in like a tsunami. She grabbed Matts leg, her nails digging into his thigh and drawing blood as she screamed. Feeling the soggy wet rush in her sides as Matt slowly brushed her hair from her face as she cried.

He leaned over and grabbed the bottle of pain killers. Shaking two in his hand. "Alice, your okay." He reassured her, holding the pills in one hand and one around her tight. She sobbed, struggling to breathe as she slowly realized she couldn't see from her left eye. She looked at Matt, her hiccuping deep and quick as she lets go of his thigh. Reaching up and touching her calloused left eye, a long scab line over her eyelids and her brow. "It's okay, just, focus on resting." He murmured, his thumb brushing over her scarring brow as she sniffled. Slowly grabbing the pain killers from his hand and sliding them into her mouth. Struggling to swallow them but managing as she laid back down with a grunt. Matt listens to her heart, still not registering she just came back to life after fighting for it only forty five minutes before.

Matt was sewing her wounds, her blood stopped pouring out of her and her intestines were shoved back into her the best he could do. But she lost too much blood, she was pale, whiter than snow. He knew she was going to die and he believed that this time she wasn't going to come back. He prepared a message for Foggy but he couldn't get himself to send it, thank goodness he didn't.

"... Matt." She groaned, opening her eyes.
His head popped up. Still sitting at her feet on the couch he slowly stood, kneeling down next to her laying form. "I'm here." He whispered.

"... Did I die?" She cleared her throat, coughing as blood splattered on her lip. Raising her hand, the trembling almost unmanageable as she wiped it.
"... Yes." He reluctantly answered.