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Here's the next installment. Hope you enjoy.

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You bring your fingers up and touch the warm sticky liquid flowing from the gaping hole in your shoulder. As your fingers push on the open flesh you curse loudly and out of the corner of your eye you see your little girl jump back in fear. Taking a look at her you see she's hoping from one foot to the other, tears running down her ashen white face as she shakes with fear.

Closing your eyes for a moment you want to pass out, you feel your eyes blurr and your head spin but then you hear a terrified squeak next to you and you feel a strength rise in you. Your daughter needs you and you know you have to protect her, at all costs you need to get her out of here and to safety.

Falling to your knees you pull your daughter down infront of you, protecting her from any further attacks. Staring at her she looks at you and you kiss her forehead whispering. "You're okay, we're gonna be ok Evie!"

She nods a little and shudders as more bullets ring out. Grabbing the reign that has been binding you together you rip it from both of your wrists and tie it tightly around your shoulder, a desperate attempt to cut off the flow of blood to your arm. Grabbing Evie you hoist her to your hip, your good arm holding her tightly.

Swinging her around you're able to hold her infront of you, her legs around your waist, her small hands clinging desperatley to your neck, her face buried into the crook of your neck. You want to switch her so shes not leaning on your wound, but theres no time. Theres no time to think, only act.

Clutching your daughter tightly you run forward, pushing people out of the way. You hear more bullets being fired and taking the chance to look around you see the man with the guns only a few feet from you, and you finally see the C4 surrounding him. His eyes meet yours and he smiles.

Raising his hand he aims the gun at your chest, at your daughter.

Jumping back you turn and run in the opposite direction. Making a rash decision you run into a shop. As expected it's empty, but the doors are open. Thanking the lord you continue to run, you run through the doors labeled 'Staff Only' and run through the stock rooms.

Pushing against a set of double doors you find them locked. Growling you see Evelyns head come up to watch. Looking around you put her down in the corner and begin to heave yourself against the door, trying to break it down. Trying to break free. Something snaps against your shoulder as you once more fling yourself against the solid doors and you see the reign that had been numbing your arm, snap off.

As it snaps to the floor it makes contact with your daughter's head, and you see the slow trickle of blood appear above her eyebrow. Bending you take her face in your hands and wipe the blood away, inspecting the gash. Once your satisfied that it's not too deep, that so long as you get her away from this madman she will be ok, you try once more to break the doors. After your third attempt you hear a satisfied crack and the doors fall limply open.

Picking Evie back up you hold her tightly and as you run down the dark corridor, heading for the emergency exits you hear her whimpering. "Daddy. Daddy, I'm scared."

You feel her hot tears trickle down your neck and mix with the blood that is flowing down your chest and arm, clutching her more fiercley you feel your own tears fall from your eyes. Swallowing you speak with control in your voice. With conviction. You know that as her father, as Evelyns Daddy it's your job to make this little girl feel safe. You need to make sure she knows, or at least thinks it's going to be ok.

That's your primary job.

"There's nothing to be scared of Evelyn, we're fine. We're almost outside now, the police will be there to help us. Uncle Flack along with Uncle Mac and Aunt Stella." And then you stop yourself just in time. You make sure you don't say that Lindsay will be there. That her mother will be there to take her in her arms and hold her tight. Because you don't want to lie to her. For all you know, Lindsay, along with your boy, your son, could be back in the main shopping centre. They could be watching as the madness descends on them. They could be almost at the door but fall to a bullet. Or they could be dead already. Clinging to one another as they pass through. Pushing the thoughts from your head you spurr forward more. Desperation pulsing through your veins.

"Santa Maria please be with us, look after us and help us be safe. Please!"

You hear your daughters muffled pleas against your neck, and you smile a little. You remember, only three months ago being at your parents house for Sunday Lunch. Your Ma had sat both of your children down and held up a glorified painting of Saint Maria. Stroking Evelyn's hair and clutching Thomas' cheek she had taught them, the way she had taught you.

You remember muttering to Lindsay informing her it was silly that you both let your Mother bring your children up as Catholics, when most of the things you had seen from the Catholic Church were anything but Godly. But Lindsay had hit you and listened intently as your Ma told both your children about Saint Maria. About the terrible sufferings she had endured, but how she had been strong enough to forgive those who had hurt her and through her death she had become a Saint. And she would watch over children, guide them in need, all you had to do was ask.

And here was your little girl, five years old and asking for guideness and protection from Saint Maria in her hour of need. You stumble slightly as your legs ache and throb, but you don't stop. Catching yourself before you fall you pull yourself back up and keep running. As you see the emergency exit you see the corridor swim before your eyes, your head is dancing with your brain and you can't make sense anymore.

All you know is that you need to get out of here.

Your daughter slips slightly but you grasp her tightly, unaware of the bruises you are causing. You hear the blood pulsing in your ears and that's all you can hear, along with a muffled sob from Evie and your feet pounding against the concrete.

Pushing hard against the metal bar, you break free into the bright daylight. Stepping onto the metal stairway you begin to climb down, letting your aching legs run automatically. You can see the ground below you, a blurry mess of beige and black, with the red dumpster just to the left. And now you can hear the sirens, the police talking through a microphone, the screams. You near the bottom, and through your heaving breaths you mutter hoarsley.

"Almost there Evie. We're almost there baby."

Suddenly, the metal staircase shakes and you hear a tremendous explosion. The horrific sound of concrete and bricks falling to the ground mixes with the fresh screams of hundreds of people. You tighten your grip on the metal bar guiding you down, and move faster. You're unsure if the explosion will travel, unsure if this staircase will fall along with the building you just exited. As you round a corner you look at the wall next to you and thankfully you don't see it crumbling, but it doesn't slow you down. Finally you push the ladder down with your foot and after what seems like an eternity you feel your feet touch hard ground once more.

But as you stumble forward with your shaking daughter in your arms you know you won't last long. You can feel the blood leaving your body faster than ever, you know its soaked your baby girl, along with your clothes. And you know you won't survive much longer. But you need to get her to safety. Swaying to one side then to the other you make your way around the corner. And lifting your head up you see the red and blue lights, and you see the emergency services surging forwards into the rubble which was, only minutes ago, a shopping centre.

Through the noise you hear screams and you can see people pointing as you fall to your knees. Setting Evelyn down on the ground, you look into her eyes and try and focus, you need to see her safe. She's crying, her brown hair matted with your blood, her sundress a sick red cloth covering her red skin. She reaches out and touches your face and you hear her crying.

"Daddy!! Daddy!" But then she's gone, her screams are louder, but you feel her being tugged away from you.

You hold her tighter, afraid to let go of her hand, but someone is wrenching you apart.

Burning your skin as they pull her away from your touch.

She's screaming.

Crying.

Howling.

You mumble quietly. "It's ok baby. You're ok."

And then you feel your head spin once more and as the ground comes closer to you, you finally give in and see only black.