Silence. Once again, Demona was met with silence, and she was quickly growing tired of this 'game'. Typically, it was hard to get Jessica to shut up for five minutes. Whether it was her rambling about some story that she missed at work, or her talking on her headset while gaming, there was almost never a quiet moment in the home when the pink-haired woman was around. Now, though, there was nothing coming from her, and Demona was tired of it.

"I swear to fuck, Jessica, I'm--" However, as she stood up, Demona's eyes fell on the front door, but more specifically, the man sitting on her floor. Jessica hadn't come back in, but instead, Eddie had somehow found his way to her house, and was now sitting, collapsed in her doorway. His eyes were distraught, and blood covered his hands. Even from her distance she could see how shaky his breathing was, let alone how he looked like he was going to physically fall apart if he let go of his legs. A thousand questions ran over her mind, but as she tried to find the voice she had just lost, she was only able to get one word out -- at least, at first.

" . . . Eddie???"

Instinct took over. Suddenly, the events from earlier weren't even on her radar, and as she walked over towards him, barefoot steps half-silent on her wooden floors, Demona searched over him for injuries. The best case scenario was that the blood was his own, and they would just have to call someone for help. But seven years had passed, and while Eddie had never been violent in the past, a lot could change in seven years. Still, she knew deep down that he couldn't hurt a fly. She had just watched one too many true crime shows in the past week, and stopping within his reach (but not touching him), she carefully crouched down near him, once again scanning over him for injuries.

As she looked over her ex-boyfriend, her eyes fell on areas where the blood seemed the heaviest. His hair was wet, and his palms were a deep red. The jeans he had worn at the show now held dark stains of their own, and while she couldn't exactly see how his shirt held up, given the dark color of it, she couldn't imagine it was without a dampness of its own. Thankfully, though, he didn't seem to be physically hurt, and by the time she spoke again, her voice was still quiet, but a new caution entered her tone.

"What the hell happened??"