Lazy Note: Hey there, Strangers. After finishing episode 4 twice in a row, I've collected my dark thoughts put them down in the best way I know how: in a story. Read at your own risk.

I'm sorry.

Warnings: Dark Themes, Drugs, Sexual Situations/Rape implications, Harsh Language, Abuse, Character Death, Blood, Violence

Always Take the Shot

by

xLazyxWriterx

The sting started from her neck and spread down her spine. A rapid heart became slow, breathing shallow, vision blurring darkness and light with swirls of color. The ground was lumpy, cold and damp. Her body instinctively twitched, her arms raising. The pounding colors of orange and specks of red were faded, seemingly sucking away any last bit of energy through her fingertips. Her other hand used its remaining strength to keep its grasp her phone. Her dry, cracked lips parted in a silent gasp, hazy eyes frantically searching for any sign of that particular blue. Through the muffed panic, the sound of the steps brushed past her. The arm holding her up shook weakly before giving out, and her ears popped as the panic instantly fell silent. Her eyelids were becoming heavier, seemingly weighing down her entire head as it hit the moist dirt.

She rolled off her side and partially on to her back, tilting her head in an attempt to place the owner of the footsteps. The figure was a mess of color, and she tried desperately to focus her vision on such a familiar presence. The phone slipped from her fingers as all feeling left her body. Her muscles relaxed and her thoughts became nonexistent. Through lidded eyes, she watched the figure turn from her. Limp, a mere corpse. That is what she became.

Darkness fell upon her eyes, and the coldness enveloped her.

Her movements were involuntary, each bump and turn of her neck. Her temple continued to hit something hard, each time more painful than the last. There was a calming hum in her ear along with her slow, hard heartbeat. Not a single thought ran through her mind, and her eyes barely peeked open. She couldn't register her surroundings, but part of her recognized the hum, even if her mind couldn't make sense of it.

Another bump, and her temple bashed harshly against the hardness, remaining there. The material was a rough fabric wrapped tightly around a joint hard as bone.

Her hair tickled her cheek as she lay there against the warm leather, inhaling the scent of gasoline, cologne and copper.

Her vision was corrupted with black once more, and her mind blank.

The cold, flat ground burned against her heated skin, and her muscles continued to twitch. Her eyes refused to open, but she could feel the movements around her. A groan built up in her throat, and she pressed her flushed cheek flat against the cool ground. Her tongue darted out across her bottom lip, not wetting but sticking.

The movements were father now, and she could barely hear the voices being spoken. The ringing in her ears was stronger than the heavy words in the air. She tried to swallow, but her mouth was so dry and bitter that is only brought a lump of pain that lodged itself within her throat.

A muffled voice was close now, right by her ear. Moist breath dampened her earlobe, causing a shiver to run through her and she winced away. Something heavy was on her back, rubbing along her shirt in such a soothing way. The voice was calm, fluent, but trickled with imitated care.

She attempted to open her eyes, but her lids didn't budge. She involuntarily flinched at a more frantic voice, heavy with panic and sorrow. This voice was farther away but much more piercing to her ears, breaking the pressure and giving the voices more tone and pitch. The weight on her back stopped moving, and the moisture left her ear. This voice, the one with the mask, spoke softly with slight irritation.

The weight was lifted, and she was pulled up from the ground quickly, causing a wave of nausea to crash over her. Movements occurred away from her as her back rested against an even cooler wall. Her legs were touching and extended, her hands resting in her lap. Her neck shook under the weight of her head, eventually giving and she slouched over.

For the first time, her lids lifted slightly only to quickly shut out the brightness that surrounded her. Colors flooded her eyelids, objects and shapes being formed into figures.

The frantic voice, overwhelmed with sincere fear and agony, was silenced when something crashed, and so did she.

The dripping sound echoed in her tender ears as she rolled her tense neck. Stiff numbness plagued her joints and limbs as she tried to twist her body around. Her groggy mind was still throbbed painfully along with the rest of her body. When she rose her head and opened her tired eyes they were met a brightness in contrast to the darkness she lay in, and a simple pop of that particular blue caught her eye.

It too many moments of her blinking and squirming around before her brain registered where she was, and icy panic shot through her veins and stilled her heart. With slightly blurry vision, she went to rub at her eyes only to find her hands bound together with duct tap, similar to her ankles. Using her fists she rubbed at her swollen eyes and everything came into focus. She was stuck in a dark corner next to some photography equipment and tripods, and she could make out the saran wrapped couch and the desk behind it. The couch had something red draped over it, and she quickly recognized the article of clothing.

Her memories came flooding back to her, and her lips parted into a silent gasp as her vision blurred once more, but this time by her own tears welling up. There was still a sting in her neck, but she ignored it to look around in a panic before her eyes landed on the particular blue.

Chloe lay on her side loosely, limply with her back to her. Her jacket had been removed, and her bra strap was hanging over her shoulder. Her beanie was placed beside her, her mess of blue and violet hair bright in contrast to the white ground.

The memory was quick, but oh so painful. That crack, that pop, that silence that was ended. The desperation, the draining fear, and the reality made the memory vivid, and she choked out a painful sob. The Chloe that lay away from her was lifeless. Skin a pale color, white like her shirt used to be before it was stained with soil. She was too still, not even a slight movement to indicate a breath, or even a shudder.

The pop played through her mind multiple times, and she couldn't stop it. She couldn't breathe. Her sobs her silent, choking her. Her chest rippled with stabbing torment that spread to her belly, causing her to gag slightly. Her body vibrated, and she threw her head back against the wall, smashing repeatedly. Her lips formed words that were never given voice, no matter how desperately she tried.

With a new ache in the back of her head, she pulled her knees to her chest and crushed her forehead against them in an attempt to wake up from the nightmare she was living. Each thud against her knee made her dizzy, and she hoped that the brightness would fade and darkness would consume her once more. But, within that darkness was images. Images of Chloe, and the very moment she was thrown back and all sign of life faded from pale blue eyes. Images of her laying upon the grave of her missing love, and becoming completely still. Images of a dark, familiar figure standing over her. Images of hidden eyes, covered in glass to hide the lack of empathy and regret.

She cried silently, tears dripping down her flushed cheeks, down her jaw, sliding cross her neck. She rubbed her cheek on her arm, noticing for the first time that her jacket was missing. A shiver ran through her, and she tightened her self up.

She didn't know how long she remained there, or how long she had sat in this corner since she was placed, but she knew that her bottom ached horribly and the pain in her chest was slowly killing her. She didn't try to stop herself from shaking, hope fading away and true terror sinking in of becoming what she feared most: another binder on the shelf.

With dry tear ducts, she lifted her head slowly. She swallowed harshly, eyes scanning the area for any sign of life. Aside from Chloe, there wasn't a single other body in this underground hell.

But, if that were the case, what was that breathing she heard?

She whirled her head around to look to her left, almost falling over. The breathing was shallow, quiet, and it was coming from the lungs of Nathan Prescott only a few feet away.

He was sitting against the wall, hands and ankles bound, just like her. He rested his head against the wall, and he merely looked at her. His eyes were no longer clouded with red anger or black hatred. No, his eyes were clear for the first time since she ever met his gaze, and it was more terrifying and heart wrenching than she ever imagined. He blinked slowly, and she could make out the dark shadows circling his under eye. Her own stare wondered over his face. His cheek had been bruised slightly, he had a cut along his nose and his lip had been split, and her thoughts flashed to him on the ground with Warren standing over him. Because of her, Nathan had made it out of that brawl with a mere limp, but this time that wasn't the case.

His stare continued to bore into her, and her breath hitched in her throat as his eyes swelled, the blue iris' burned brighter, and his own tears slid down his cheek. He never once looked away from her, nor did she. They remained there in silence, and she desperately searched his seemingly blank expression for something, for anything.

His mouth parted slightly, and he gave a small sigh. "Max..."

His lips had barely moved, and her name was not spoken in fury, agitation, or mockery. It was desperate, a plea. Max didn't expect her name to slip off his tongue and pierce her very being in such a way. It only brought back her own tears as she continued to look at him.

His jacket and cardigan were gone, leaving him in his dark shirt. Goosebumps rose along his neck and arms, and he shivered slightly. She noticed that his shirt seemed damp by the way it clung to him. His pants were ripped along his knee as though he skidded across the floor. His hair remained pushed back with the exception of one chunk that clung to his forehead, but it was not neat in the slightest. It was damp as well. His Adams apple bobbed as he swallowed, and his skin was damp with cold sweat.

Max met his gaze once more, and knew she needed to reach him. She leaned over, using every bit of strength she could muster, and used her bound fists to help her scoot over to him. It was hard, and she had to stop multiple times. He remained silent, unmoving, watching her. When she reached him, exhaustion over took her, and she slumped against him, too dazed to think anything of it. He glanced down at her, leaning back against her, trembling and soaking in her heat. She rested her cheek against his damp shirt, inhaling the scent of rain and soil.

"Na..." she attempted to breathe out his name, but her words remained stuck. She felt him shake his head slowly, his eyes still upon her. She could feel it, and she could feel his heart. It was there, and it was beating. He was breathing. He was there, and so was she.

"Nathan..." she managed to get his name out, and she asked, "what did you do...?"

His nose was buried in her hair, and he only shook more with the question. "I'm sorry... I-I..." his whisper was muffed by her hair, but she could hear each word dripping with regret and suffering. "I... I tried."

"...Rachel... Am..."

"I-I didn't know... he-he told me..." Nathan cried, scooting closer to her in search of any comfort to lift the weighted pain placed upon him, even if he didn't deserve it. Max closed her eyes, attempting to gather her thoughts. "Sorry, s-sorry, sorry..." he continued apologizing as his body tensed with each sob. Max sat up carefully, and Nathan allowed her to push away from him. She turned her head to look at Chloe, now seeing the top of her head and her arms. Nathan followed her gaze before squeezing his eyes shut and allowing his head to drop. "Sorry... I-I'm so sorry..."

"Kate..."

"...sorry, so sorry... sorry..."

There was an echo of footsteps, but Max didn't notice them. Nathan reached out to her, his bound hands grabbing hers, and she jerked away from him. His apologies and pleas were in a loop, and he began rocking himself back and forth.

The flash made Max jump, and she turned her head up to the sight of the well dressed figure with the expensive camera.

"Always take the shot," Mark Jefferson simply said, pulling the camera back and studying the screen. He seemed pleased with the shot. The swirl of emotions in Max's heart is what squeezed any sense of hope from her body and mind, and she watched as her favorite teacher, the man she inspired to be like, turned his back on her and set the camera down on the desk, right next two a blank red binder. Nathan shook violently beside her, and she turned to seem him keeping his head down and his mouth continued to move without a voice.

Jefferson walked back towards them, slipping off his blazer and neatly folding it before placing it on the couch. He rolled up his sleeves, and Max could only watch him. So many questions in her mind wanted so desperately to be voiced, but her tongue refused to move. Jefferson stood tall above them, and he reached down to grab Nathan by the collar, pulling him and dragging him away from Max. Max reached out to grab him, but the sudden movement brought back the nausea and the room spun. Jefferson brought him over to where Chloe lay, sitting him in front of her.

Nathan tried to move away, obviously frightened by the corpse, resulting in a frustrated sigh from Jefferson. "How many times have I told you? You want to learn? You want my help? Then, you have to trust me Nathan." Jefferson leaned down, grasping Nathan's hair and forcing him to meet his eyes. "I am here to guide you."

Jefferson released him, and Nathan slumped over. Jefferson reached into his pocket, pulling out a pocket knife. "Now, we're going to try this again. I'm going to trust that you will do the right thing." Jefferson cut the duct tap off Nathan's wrists and ankles. "Now, get up."

Nathan hesitated, momentarily thinking he was still bound. He ran his ringers through his hair, staring wide eyed at all the cameras staring at him, and Max could practically see the fear and confusion evaporating from his skin. He stood to his unsteady feet, and Jefferson continued to eye him, study him, and Nathan waited.

Jefferson turned to face Max, and said, "How are you feeling, Max?" The words sounded sympathetic, but dripped with insincerity and amusement. Max's hatred swelled up within her, and she merely glared up at him, at loss for words to describe how she was truly feeling.

So, she settled for, "You motherfucker." It came out deep, cold, and dipped in only a fraction of Max's true hatred.

The corner of Jefferson's mouth twitched, and he cocked his head to the side as he crossed his arms. "That good, hm? Hold that thought." Jefferson headed towards one of the tripods. "Y'know, Max, things would have just been so much simpler had you handed in your photo." Jefferson said as though he were making mere small talk. "Your friend here would have appreciated it, I'm sure. But, hey, we all make mistakes. You're here now." He made his way to the other tripod, messing with the camera placed on it.

"Nathan, move that hat away." Jefferson said, and Nathan instantly bent down to pick it up. He moved and set it on the table in front of the couch before moving back to where he was. Max tore her glare from Jefferson and to Nathan. His expression was blank once more, but Max could make out the tear stains on his cheeks and the sorrow in his eyes. His fists were clutched at his sides, and he was counting to himself.

Max found her voice, blurting out, "Why Rachel? Why Kate?"

Jefferson stopped, glancing up at Max. "Kate was at the peak of her innocence, and it would've been a shame to pass that up. Nathan agrees, right?" Jefferson shot Nathan a look of mockery, and Nathan kept his head down.

Jefferson chuckled lightly to himself. "As for Rachel, she was the opposite of innocent. She was something else. Beautiful, so full of life. It's her own fault she didn't make it out of here the way we planned. It was a shame, though." Jefferson rose a brow, glancing at Nathan. "He doesn't remember anything. Well, mostly, and I was going to tell you the truth, Nathan, but you weren't ready."

Nathan remained unmoving.

"I thought it better if you thought she ran away, but perhaps that was a mistake on my part. That introduction to all of this wasn't the best, but that's alright. We still made memories together." Jefferson smiled, and Nathan visibly flinched.

"It is too bad. Rachel was fun, and it would have been great to have her just one more time before died."

"Y-you-"

"It's okay. Nathan and I had our own fun."

Max understood the implications within his words clearly, and her heart sunk down to her stomach. She fixed her gazed on Nathan, who hadn't moved but his expression showed deep shame and disgust.

"But, shhh!" Jefferson held a finger to his lips. "Don't tell daddy. That's not what he pays me for. Well, not totally, anyway."

All the contents in Max's stomach were rising to her throat, and she had to swallow them back the back she could. Jefferson headed towards the rest of the cameras.

"I'm glad you're here instead of Victoria." Jefferson stated, frowning down at one of the cameras. At Victoria's name, Nathan's head snapped up. "Oh, how she tried, though. I was going to settle for her before you snooped around. Which, by the way, Nathan," Jefferson flashed him a smile, "thank you for letting my borrow your phone."

Max swung her head around to stare at Nathan, who looked back down at his feet, his fingers drumming against his leg.

"But, I do have to express my disappointment in trying to beat me to Max." Jefferson sighed. "Always trying to do things on your own." Jefferson mumbled. He finished fiddling with the cameras, and stood in front of Nathan. "Forgive and forget, I suppose. Now," Jefferson rested a hand on Nathan's shoulder, who flinched away, "impress me. I want to be proud of you, Nathan."

Nathan slowly nodded. Jefferson's hand reached up and his thumb brushed against Nathan's cheek where the bruise was placed, and Max could see the admiration in Jefferson's dark eyes as he stared at his work. That thumb slid down to Nathan's split lip, gently rubbing it. Nathan stood there, grimacing and waiting. Max's stomach tightened along with her throat, dread hanging in the air.

"Undress her." The two words were simple, yet enough to make Max's heart stop. Nathan's eyes widened.

"Wh-"

Jefferson motioned behind him, towards Chloe. "You heard me." Jefferson whispered, flicking Nathan's lip with his thumb before moving away. Nathan turned around and stared down at Chloe, and Max lunged herself forward, hitting the cold ground.

"Don't fucking touch her!" Max's raw throat burned.

Jefferson tsked. "Max-"

"Don't! Nathan please! Don't you fucking touch her!" Max cleared her throat, and she scooted herself forward towards Nathan and Chloe. "No! No, please don't..." Max's sobs caught up with her, and Nathan stared down at her with swollen eyes and a gasping mouth.

"I was hoping you would learn something from this," Jefferson sighed. Max shot him another hatred soaked glare.

"You sonofabitch! How dare you! You fucker! Don't!"

"Max-" Nathan cringed backwards away from the body.

"Nathan, please! You don't have to do this! Help me! Nathan!" Max pleaded, her cries shaking her entire body and echoing through out the room.

The sound of a glove snapping caught their attention. Jefferson situated the clear gloves covering his hands, and headed towards the metal table, plucking up on of the needles. Max cried, choking and reaching for Chloe.

"Please..."

Jefferson picked up one of the containers of drugs, filling the needle.

"You don't have to do this..."

Jefferson sat the bottle back down, and headed towards Max

"Please..."

"I wanted you to stay awake for this to gain something. I could have taught you so much, Max. You have a gift, and I wish you could have shared it with the world. With me..." Jefferson's words were forced and dry. He reached down and pulled Max up by her neck, moving her to a sitting position. He turned her head to the side, readying the needle.

Max shot one last look at Nathan, only to see he was gone. The cry that rang through out the room belonged to him, though. The needle dropped from Jefferson's hand, and he fell into Max's lap. Quickly recovering, Jefferson turned, only to be hit with the tripod once more. Nathan reached down and grabbed his shirt, dragging him away from Max before hitting him with the tripod again. Jefferson held his face, and Nathan reached into Jefferson's pocket to pull out the pocket knife, and reached around him to grab the gun tucked in the back of his pants.

It was all a blur to Max, and Nathan was right next to her again, grabbing her hands and freeing her of her duct tape bounds. Nathan reached for her, pulling her to her feet. Before Max could stand straight, Jefferson grabbed the back of Nathan's shirt, jerking him backwards. Max fell back, as well as the gun and knife, and she hit her head against the wall.

Spots were fading in and out of reality, and Max felt the pulsing pain in her head. Nathan and Jefferson were two blurs, and Max tried to focus, tried to get up.

"Get off of me!" Nathan cried out.

"After everything I've done for you!" Jefferson was straddling Nathan, hands wrapped around his neck and shaking. "You've tested my patience and you have failed me repeatedly! You fucking-"

"I-I... I-" Nathan choked out, scratching at Jefferson's arms and hands, his legs attempting to push Jefferson away.

"-stupid shit! No amount of money is worth putting up with you!"

"I..."

"All you are is a good fuck!"

Max crawled on her knees, the pocket knife in hand. Rising up, with every ounce of her hatred and terror, plunged the knife into Jefferson's shoulder. Jefferson let out a horrible yelp, releasing Nathan, who inhaled quickly and began coughing, rolling on his side. Jefferson reached around in an attempt to free the knife. Dizziness was causing darkness in Max's vision, and her hands searched the ground for the gun.

Jefferson pulled the knife from his shoulder, gasping and grabbing Max's ankle. Max tried kicking him away, still frantically searching for the gun. Her heart was racing, and her entire body throbbed with pain. Jefferson's heavy body was on top of her now, weighing her down and crushing her. He was speaking to her, but she couldn't hear him. All she could hear was the sound of her blood rushing and her heart pumping.

Her hand was on top of the gun, but victory did not last. Jefferson tore the gun from her fingers, and he pushed off of her. The weight was lifted off her body, and an cry echoed through the room as Nathan got a hold of himself, quickly getting to his feet and reaching for the tripod.

Jefferson turned, prepared for Nathan, and jerked the tripod from his finger. He held the gun up, pointing it at Nathan. They both were breathing heavily, and Nathan shook.

"Fuck..." Jefferson gasped. After a moment, he seemed to gather himself. "Nathan, I'm sorry. I lost my temper." Jefferson didn't bother masking his detest.

"No..." Nathan shook his head. "Fuck you! I didn't want this! I didn't want any of this! Stop pushing me! You don't care! You never cared! I'm not doing this anymore!"

"Yeah, well, you don't have a choice." Jefferson spat back. "I've been kind, and I've been patient, but you can't see that. So," Jefferson reached out, grabbing the front of Nathan's shirt and throwing him down to the floor. "I'm going to have to show you again."

Max could see Nathan, and she could hear him. She could see Jefferson, and that was enough for her to reach out and grab the object of her true focus.

Jefferson used his arm to clear the table placed in front of the couch, and leaned Nathan against it. Nathan was gasping for air, his arms pushing himself up, the back of his head colliding with Jefferson's chin.

Max saw the opportunity, and forced herself to her feet, nearly falling over. Jefferson, his taste for blood causing him to focus on Nathan, pulled Nathan to his feet, gun still in hand.

Just as Max shoved the needle into Jefferson's neck, her ears popped once more, and the crack echoed through out the room.

All three of them were on the ground. Jefferson held his neck, gasping and reaching out. Nathan lay on his back, grabbing at his left side as blood soaked through his fingers. Jefferson crawled over Nathan, pushing past him, and crawling away. Nathan stomach and chest rose in an irregular pattern, and he choked and gasped for air.

Max's mind registered what happened, and she quickly crawled to Nathan's side. "Oh god!" Max exclaimed, the sight of the blood making her nauseous. Nathan rolled on to his side, curling up into the fetal position. Max sat beside him.

"N-no! You're going to be okay! I-I'm gonna fix this!"

"M-Ma-"

Max rose her hand, but no matter how much she concentrated or how much she wished, the world remained moving. Nathan remained beside her, bleeding out, and Jefferson remained in the dark corner he had crawled into. Max stared down at her hand in wide eyed panic. It wasn't working. She couldn't go back. She couldn't rewind.

Nathan's breathing was weakening, and blood was pooling away from him. Max frantically searched his face, as though his eyes would hold something that would save him. Nathan glanced back at her, and through bloodied lips he whispered, "This is my karma..." His grip on his wounded abdomen tightened, and hot tears dripped down his nose and onto the ground. "Everyone hates me... everyone..."

"Shhh, Nathan..." Max brushed his hair back, and he kept his gaze on her.

"I hurt so many people...so many...this is my karma..." Nathan coughed, wheezing. "I tried so hard... s-so hard..." his voice cracked. Max reached out and grabbed his hand, his blood was warm as it slid along his fingers. His eyes were barely open, his breathing barely there, but he grasped her back. "I'm sorry...so sorry... sorry..."

Max leaned down and whispered into his ear words that were only meant for him, "Find your peace, Nathan."

Nathan gave a small single nod, his eyes closing. Max rested her cheek against Nathan's shoulder until his grip on her hand loosened, and his heart slowed completely. Her body shook with her sobs, and she silently apologized and thanked him.

Max remained by his side before she glanced up at the dark corner Jefferson had placed himself in. His eyes were lidded, his chest rising heavily, and he stared at her. Max reluctantly let got of Nathan's hand, and it fell limply to the ground. She reached over and grabbed the gun, and it was much heavier than she would've thought. She stood to her feet, using the wrapped couch to steady herself. She left her bloody hand print.

It was a numbness that she had never felt before. Her body moved on it's own, and her boiling blood pumped through her quickly, causing her heart to race. She saw the man for what he was. He was no longer a human. He wasn't a person. He was an object, and he was breakable. He wasn't a human, but he could bleed. Max dragged her feet, making her way towards him.

"Diane Arbus..." Max mumbled. Jefferson glanced up at her with cloudy eyes. "...saw humanity as tortured." Max held up the gun. "And frankly, that's bullshit."

The gun jerked in her hand, and Jefferson's body twisted in pain as he weakly cried out. The bullet past through his left side, and blood began soaking through his white shirt. Max held her finger to her lips. "But shhh... keep that to yourself." Max's tone was dead, and she aimed the gun at Jefferson's thigh.

"I could frame you in a dark corner," Max murmur, the gun jerking in her hand again as Jefferson yelped. "...and capture you..." Max aimed for his crotch, pulling the trigger. Jefferson's cry was silent, his mouth and eyes wide. "...in a moment of desperation..."

Max stepped forward, pressing the gun right against his forehead. "But... isn't that too easy...?" Max closed her eyes. "...too obvious...?"

The final crack rang in her ears, and the gun dropped from her bloody fingers. Her muscles spasmed, and she turned away from the man she once admired so dearly, and turned away from the boy she had hated so blindly, and towards her best friend.

Throughout everything, Chloe remained there, still and quiet. Her lids open to reveal washed out eyes, and her lips parted in a small gasp. Her skin the shade of milky porcelain, and her hair the particular shade of blue. Her forehead was broken by a small whole in which blood once dripped from. Max fell to her knees, crawling over to her.

"C-Chloe...?" Max squeaked out. She reached her friend, pulling her into her arms and holding her tightly. "Chloe, y-you're okay now... I didn't l-let him hu-hurt you..." Max cupped her check, smearing blood across frozen skin and mixing with the tears that fell from Max's traumatized eyes.

Silence deafened her, the ringing being her only comfort as they masked heavy footsteps. Everything had slowed down, but that wasn't her doing. She had no power. The footsteps were frantic, she knew, but to her they were slow. They rushed towards her, the blur of a dark uniform and a full mustache coming closer. The voice was deep, panicked, but not unfamiliar. Not like the other voices she heard tonight. No, this one came to save her. But, didn't the voice know? The voice is too late. Blood was shed, and the numbness had already taken over her body.