S** Tape
Not yet.
She pushed her bag through first, then ducked low and climbed through. The bottom edge scraped her hip, but she made it. Until a heavy shard she hadn’t seen slipped loose from the top of the frame.
It landed on her shoulder with a sickening, wet sound, slicing clean through her sweater and into the tender flesh near the base of her neck.
“Ah—shit,” she gasped, stifling a cry. Her hand shot to the wound, hot and sticky with blood already beginning to drip down her back.