Blood. Everything was blood. The air he was breathing bubbled with it. His stomach was filled with it. His skin was seeping it from various cuts and lacerations, or was holding it in as a black bruise. His bones felt like they were bleeding. Was that possible? Matt stumbled through the threshold of the warehouse and called out. To his ears, he sounded more like an abused whale than anything human.
The wail echoed through the empty space and elicited no movement, no response. Cora wasn't here.
Matt wavered on the spot. He'd have to treat himself or stabilized himself somehow. His punctured lung was making him feel like he was drowning. The majority, if not all, of his ribs on that side were busted up. His leg was broken again and the cast that had been on it was mangled and bloody looking. His hands were busted from being stomped on, his jaw and head were broken from the baseball bat and the kicking. Even factoring out the blood loss, if Cora didn't come home soon, he was a dead man.
Time to put that cunning to work, marine. You need to be stabilized and you can't do it yourself. You don't know when Cora is coming back, so popping a healing potion could mean you die in your sleep when it wears off. Wait...sleep? SLEEP! That one potion that puts drinkers in a magical sleep...what was that...something something death...draught? Draught of the living death! That's what it was. And Cora has a dose!
Purpose gave him just enough strength to get to the potions nook. As he scanned the bottles with his finger tips, he started feeling disconnected again. His radar was whiting out instead of dimming and Matt felt warm despite the blood he'd shed. With numb fingers, he found the bottle he needed. At the same time he got the stopper out, his legs gave out, so he restoppered the bottle as he crashed to the floor. The numbness began to creep up his arms. Instinct told him that if that numbness reached his heart, he would be dead.
Time mattered, and yet it seemed to begin to stretch out into infinity. Matt popped the stopper again. It felt like it took days for the bottle to hit his lips, weeks for him to swallow. The numbness hit his chest and everything went black.