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Belen stomped her feet on the ground. Why did this have to happen? Couldn't just find a fucking house with a shower and relax. No. She had to deal with a crazy white chick with a death wish, and two idiots that thought smashing a rock through her car was a good idea. She was done. Just fucking done. This isn't her job. She shouldn't have to deal with this shit. She wants to go home, back to San Diego and stay locked in her house and wait for her mother to come home. Not be out here in the desert with a bunch of weirdos from the gutter! 

"The sound of you voice is grating my ears." She pistol whips the girl, then kick her in the face just because the bitch is ugly and pissed her off. "I'm out." She storms away back to the house, Cruz follows behind her, never taking his gun off the three with Gregorio pulling up the rear. Once they clear the threshold, Gregorio locks the door behind them. "And who are these two? Are they with them?" Belen points to the father-daughter duo waiting by the door.

"That's Jane and her drunk step-dad. They seem like good people." Gregorio pulled the gun he took from them out the back of his pants and hands it back to the man, trusting his intoxication won't cause him to do something stupid. "We'll be sharing the house with them."

"Right." Belen shook her head, because she didn't care anymore. As long as they stayed the fuck out her way, they could whatever the hell they wanted. 

"Srta. can you take Cruz to the bathroom and help him tend to his wound. I have to pull the truck into the garage." Then he turns to step-dad. "I need you to cover me. We have a vehicle with supplies we'd be willing to share, while we wait out the night, then we'll be out of your hair once the fog clears." Gregorio went to the garage door off the kitchen and pressed the button on the side to let the door up. He held his gun up, crouched down, and ran to the car furthest from the girls he encountered before. He hoped they wised up and won't try a repeat.

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Belen helped Cruz to the bathroom on the first floor. He placed his gun against the sink and did his best to wash his hands. "Srta. I need you to create a tourniquet and tie it around my upper arm to staunch the blood flow, so I can pull this knife out." 

She grimaced. That's disgusting. She doesn't even want to handle her period blood. How's she supposed to deal with someone else's blood? Still, she did it anyway and went to get her purse from the living room where she left it, then came back with a LV handkerchief and tied it twice around his arm, tight. 

"Gracias." Cruz took two deep breathes, then pulled the knife out slowly. He grunted behind his teeth, a dizzy spell hit him, but he stayed up right against the sink. He threw knife on the counter and took a look at himself in the mirror. He was a hot mess. Blood and sweat stained his white t-shirt, and he looked a little pale. "Do you have a lighter?"

Through the whole thing she couldn't look. Just the sound of the blade sliding through flesh and the metallic smell of blood made her gag. They should've stayed in San Diego. "Why would I have a lighter?" She dug around in her purse anyway. Nope. "Nada."

"Fuck." He grabbed a towel off the rack and held it to the wound. "We'll have to wait for Gregorio to pull the truck in." In the meantime, he motioned for Belen to grab his gun. She stared it. 

"You want me to carry that?" He nodded. "Hah. You're funny. It weighs half as much as I do and the kickback on that will knock me off my feet."

"I didn't say you had to shoot. Just carry it for me. Por favor, Srta?" Belen sighed, stomped her feet again, because she didn't want to, then picked up the gun anyway and dragged to the living room following behind Cruz. He sat on the couch, breathing kind of labored and looking worse by the minute. He better not die on her or she's going back out the kill that bitch.