Damned If I Don't *Matt Murdock* (book two of Damned)

AKA the P word (Terri)

It was supposed to be a good evening. They had plans for god's sake. Victor took a day off, or rather a night off, they bought wine and cheese and put on The Untouchables, snuggling on a couch with an unspoken promise of the night turning out wild. It quickly did – they didn't make it half through the movie (but hey, it was a long movie, okay) before Vic was hovering over her, bordering her head with his freaking muscular arms, watching her with what only could be lust, embolden by alcohol. They never got to a single kiss. Sudden dark in front of her eyes and sting in her chest made her gasp, hands shooting to the source of her pain blindly.

Her vision slightly cleared, revealing Matt Murdock with his mouth open in a mute scream of terror, horrified unfocused eyes glaring right into hers, making his way to her. He didn't get far before someone grabbed him from behind; he made an incredible spin, kicking an old man in his face, falling to the ground in the process. Darkness danced on the edges of her vision again as her gaze slowly lowered, revealing something very sharp and very bloody sticking from her chest, her hands instinctively reaching for it, immediately colouring in crimson. When she looked up again, she saw Matt fighting – fighting like a freaking ninja, yet somehow weary, not being superior to the old-timer, turning his head to her every possible moment. The sting burnt more intense for few seconds and she fell to her knees, perspective changing. Matt was losing, letting his opponent clasp him in a bizarre vice, jerking violently with no effect. She tried to breathe in but she gaged, coughing, her chest squeezed in agony. She fell to her side, seeing Matt gradually limping, his attempts weakening with each try. Then it stopped completely. One beckoning from the older man and her body uselessly gasping for air was lifted, blue and crimson appearing in front of her eyes, cold biting her skin and she was lying again. Blurry figures raised their pray and headed to the window, leaving her behind.

"TERRI!" loud yell reached her ears and she gasped for air once more, pleasantly surprised she actually breathed in. She wasn't lying – she was sitting, bended forward, hand supporting her chest from the front, another gently placed on her back. She blinked furiously, realizing she was in her apartment. They had a date with Victor. Wine, cheese and movie.

What the hell?!

"Terri, can you hear me?" the voice demanded and she snapped her head to him, greeted by anxious expression. She took another breath in. What the hell just happened? And why there was a cold hand clenching her heart painfully, fear suffocating her from inside like a residue form her- what, a nightmare? No, it couldn't be. She fucking didn't fell asleep. A shiver ran down her spine. It wasn't a dream. It wasn't just a feeling or a hunch like she sometimes had – lately escalating into something else. It was a fucking vision. And what she saw was an image of horror.

She jerked to her feet, surprised by the world spinning around her wildly – strong arms caught her before she met the floor. She turned to face her saviour. "We gotta go," she blurted out, already freeing herself from his embrace, heading to her door, not giving a shit about her outfit, grabbing her handbag on the way.

It looked like Vera's apartment, right? The walls, the couch? And the simple fact Murdock was there, no matter what crazy shit was he doing, could only mean she was right.

Firm grip on her forearm stopped her search for the right shoes for running. "Terri, what the hell are you doing? Where are you going?" Vic demanded, startled, probably still taken aback by whatever was happening to her earlier. Yeah, tell me about it. I did not see that coming.

She had no time to explain. "I need to get to Vera's apartment. Fast."

He let her hand go, convinced by her hysterical voice. "Alright, alright. I'll take you there. Just calm down."