Trace held Giselle in his arms, blood seeping from the wound in her stomach, the blade still protruding. He was unsure whether he should pull the knife out or not, not sure if the blood would gush or not. Finally, he chose to pull the blade out and wrap as much of her shirt around the wound as possible to try and stench the blood flow. This was not a video game, and Trace was lost as to what to do. Tears flowed from his cheeks, his shaggy hair dropping in his face as he leaned over Giselle, doing his best to whisper words of encouragement, begging her to hang on and not leave him.