She came running around the corner. Her rapid footsteps disrupted the smog lingering around the ground of the alleyway, their echoes pattering over the buildings on either side of her. She didn't know where she was going, she didn't know if this alley even opened up to another one. She just ran.

And then there were two sets of footsteps. But the other ones were heavier, less elegant – faster. She didn't want to turn around to look, but the creeping feeling forcing its way up her neck forced her to look back. She could see his silhouette in the fog, coming closer to her, breathing heavily. Turning back around, her golden hair restricted her vision. Just as she was pulling it away from her eyes, she collided with a chain-link fence at the end of the alleyway and cried out.

There wasn't any more time to look back, just time enough to loop her fingers around the wires and climb. As she approached the top of the fence, her feet shaking violently with each vertical step, she started to hope. Maybe this wasn't the end for her. Maybe she could go home. Maybe…

He grabbed onto her right ankle. And before she could even breathe in, she had been thrown back to the grimy stonework on the ground; staring at the top of the fence that she would never reach. All of her 'maybes' climbed the fence without her and disappeared.

She didn't see much – she didn't want to look. The things he did were terrifying. And when the worst of it was over, a scorching pain ripped through her stomach. And again. And again. She could feel her clothing become wet and warm, clinging to her skin as her whole body radiated with pain. He stabbed her for what she assumed was the final time, this time leaving the blade sticking out of her stomach.

His footsteps gradually shrunk away and she was left alone.

Her "maybe's" were replaced with "if only's."

She wanted to call her mother. That was the first thing that ran through her mind. She pulled herself up against the wall, slouching over as strength ebbed away from her body. But her phone wasn't in her pocket. And like that, she was completely alone to die in some random alleyway in New York City. Her wounds started to stop hurting, her heartbeat was slowing gradually. Everything around her started to blur.

This isn't how she wanted to die.

Her eyes eased open again, and she saw someone sitting next to her. She looked up slowly, her mouth open and dripping with blood.

The woman sitting next to her was beautiful. But she didn't care about her beauty.

"Please." She whispered through the blood. "Please, call someone. 911. Please help me."

"I can't, darling." The woman whispered with a sad smile. Her voice wasn't really audible, persay, but it seemed to register on a more neurotic level. "If you can see me, then you're already too far gone."

"Who are you?"

"Call me Krish."

Krish was dressed in black, flowing clothing that didn't seem to have any separating lines. It was fluid and beautiful and dark. She had two glorious goat horns jutting from her head, and scales that seemed to line her face. Her perfect porcelain skin seemed to glow brightly in contrast, and she had the most stunning green eyes.

"Are you…" She struggled to talk, "Are you an angel?"

Krish didn't respond. She just looked at the dying girl. She was so pretty. Her eyes were bright… but terrified. Her hair was golden… but smattered with blood. This was a terrible moment for KrishnaLan, who was (for the first time) put face to face with a dying person who didn't deserve to die. She was used to killing murderers, rapists, ugly people with ugly souls. But this girl.

This girl had done nothing wrong. This was unfair. This wasn't right. And Krish absolutely didn't like it.

"Are you a demon?" The girl asked painfully.

"Not for you." Krish responded quietly. "I'm a spirit, you see. You're verging so close to death that you can see off the edge. That's the only reason we can talk right now."

"Are you real?"

"Yes, I'm real."

"Please… will you stay with me… I'm…" The sound that came from the girl's throat as she struggled past the blood was heart-wrenching. "I'm very scared."

Krish set her hand on the girl's. "I'm not going anywhere. I promise." This seemed to ease the girl's trouble for just a moment, and she closed her eyes softly. But she continued to take ragged breaths. KrishnaLan didn't know how much longer she could take this. Was this supposed to humble her? Was she supposed to learn something? Why did this innocent, beautiful girl have to suffer for it?

"Is the afterlife…" Her eyes opened painfully again, "Is the afterlife comfortable? Is… is it real? Is it…"

"Well, I've only been to Hell. You won't be going there. You'll be going somewhere beautiful."

"Tell me about it, please. Please explain it to me."

"There will be people there, lots of people that are willing to love you. There's no pain, no worries. No evil people. You'll be able to breathe more easily than you've ever breathed before."

"Are you…" Another one of those gurgles from the girl's mouth made KrishnaLan cringe. "Are you here to take me there?"

"I'm afraid I'm not allowed."

"Then why… why are you here?"

"You see, with proper medical care right at this moment, your body could still function for several hours. I need those hours. I need to talk to someone, someone that I care about very much. Is that alright with you?"

She nodded.

"Then you need to let go." Krish said kindly. "Everyone is afraid of death. And some of them should be. But you, my dear, you have absolutely nothing to be afraid of. Close your eyes, and just let go. Death will be kind to you."

"I'm scared."

"I'm here, don't worry."

"T-thank you. Thank you, Krish." The girl closed her eyes and relaxed. KrishnaLan tensed up for a moment.

"Wait, you never told me your name…"

"My name…" She looked pained again for a long moment, and the silence where she tried to muster the courage to speak was incredibly horrible. "Charlie."

"Charlie." KrishnaLan repeated. And for some reason, that recognition seemed enough for Charlie to let go. She breathed in a few more times, breathed out… and then she didn't inhale again.

Krish had seen death so many times. She'd caused it, even. Krish had spent hundreds of lifetimes spilling other people's blood onto her own clothing and loving it. She thought death was glorious and royal, that it was stunning to cause someone else's demise and hold their lives in your fingertips.

But Charlie. Charlie didn't deserve to die. Gods, Charlie was practically perfect. And in those dead, lifeless eyes, Krish could see all of Charlie's lost potential. Charlie would never get married. Charlie would never see her family again. Charlie wouldn't have children. Charlie wasn't going to graduate college. Charlie would never have another Christmas. Charlie wouldn't ever leave a footprint on the world. She would be regarded as a victim on the news, for a brief five-second newscast, and then never recognized again.

This girl, that would never be regarded again, had hopes and dreams and aspirations and fears and thoughts. She had read books and watched movies. She'd laughed and cried. She'd loved people and lost people. She'd seen the world and thought about it and she could have changed it.

Charlie wasn't going home tonight.

And this impacted KrishnaLan profoundly.

But Krish tried to put her emotions aside. She didn't have much time… the human body fades quickly, and Krish needed as much time as she could manage. Her spirit entered the frame of Charlie and suddenly the dead body was reanimated. Krish had forgotten what feeling felt like. The blood rushed through the dead veins again, and Charlie's donated heart started to beat for KrishnaLan.

Krish kept the knife in her torso, and wrapped Charlie's scarf tightly around it and the wounds. She shambled drunkenly to her feet, feeling death start to encompass her again. But she shook it off and started to walk resolutely down the alleyway, leaving footprints of blood.

Because, before Krish went off to go find a certain Norse God, she had to go find a certain downtown killer.

For Charlie.