Last Option

A bullet.

Straight in my hand.

Blood oozed out like a broken geyser, but I ignored the pain and swept my feet to the side. Hella tripped face-first to the floor of the terrace and I followed with a dive.

We rolled quickly to the edge of the ledge.

"W-w-woah, you're shot! What the hell—"

"Shut up, there's a potion in my bag, hand it over!"

I screamed at Hella and tore off the sleeves of my shirt. Thank goodness I was not wearing the good ones.

There, sticking out like a small needle, I found the small bullet in my arm. Thankfully, it had not broken apart in bits and had only caused some damage to my muscles.

I shoved my finger inside the gnawed, pulsing flesh and yanked the bullet out.

"Holy fuck… you're crazy. Absolutely fucking crazy…"

Hella spoke shit, but was diligent with work. She uncorked the potion and poured it on the wound.