As she repeatedly hit the bag, throwing punch after punch at the painfully solid object in front of her she didn't feel ashamed to cry. She still wore the black dress she was given to wear to her parents funeral, a funeral she only made it half way to before turning back to home. The blood from her beat up knuckles was beginning to stain the sleeves, but she didn't care. All she cared about at that moment was feeling pain. The pain of losing her parents, the pain of losing everyone she cared about. The pain of not being able to protect those dearest to her. The pain of failure. She was alone in life now. And it was all her fault. She would have done anything and everything to stop what happened, and when she had that chance she blew it. She failed. In frustration she swung her fist back, letting it connect with the punching bag one last time and splitting it in half, feeling slightly satisfied when she heard the loud thump of it hitting the floor at her feet. As she was bought back to reality she collapsed on the floor, gasping for breath, finally realising the intensity of the work she had just put her body through. It was only while she sat hunched on the floor that she noticed something was different. The world around her seemed to be silent. There was no noise of cars or dogs or people walking by on the street metres from where she crouched. It was too quiet. Her eyes flickered to the other side of the room where her bag lay discarded, her gun, knife and her secret hidden inside, before surveying the room. From the corner of her eye she picked up a small movement and barely had time to spin around, ducking a punch which was aimed at her head, swinging her legs around to connect with her attackers body, sending them sprawling to the ground, the gun they held in their gloved hand firing as it hit the floor. Without a second thought she reached for the gun, backing against the wall and facing the three other people who had now entered her living room at the sound of a shot being fired. Before she had time to raise the gun someone came at her from her left side, sending a kick to her ribs and knocking her to the ground. With a groan she rolled over, blocking another kick this time aimed at her face. She knew she was hopelessly outnumbered with all four black cladded figures slowly approaching, pushing her against the wall. The gun now lay across the other side of the room near her bag. She was out of options and beyond the point of caring what happened. After a half-hearted struggle with the attackers, a cloth was placed over her mouth and she could feel herself becoming more and more drowsy with each breath. The last thing she witnessed was a dark skinned man walking through her front door, his black coat sweeping the floor behind him, an eyepatch covering his left eye and a frown upon his face. Then everything went black.