Do as you would be done by

She looked up at her attacker and then down at the blood spreading across the white crisp shirt she always wore for work. Both her hands were clutching at her stomach, trying to stem the flow, but she knew that wouldn't help. She was starting to fade out now, she looked at him again. He was just a hobo who had been hanging around between the station and the office for the last week. She had seen him as she had bought her coffee from the street vender and walked into the office. She didn’t kn...