Simon sat his cup of tea down and reached behind his back, holding a bloody machete, with a ragged blade... "He 'cautiously greeted her', the girl turning 'round... [i]crying.[/i] Behind her was a dead, Irish man. He was holding a pistol with his cold, dead fingers." He rushed to Evelyn's side, a caring smile on his face. Suddenly, he forcfully lifted her shirt just above her belly-button.
She didn't protest.
A scar was left from a gunshot. 
"The girl had been shot, protecting the child. She then ran off."