She doesn't know where she's going but it doesn't take long before she feels the walls come closing in on her. The silence inside the car is painful and increases the impression of the small place shrinking in itself with every passing second.
She needs to get out.
She pulls up on the side of the street and moves to the backseat where she keeps her gym bag. It's fairly desertet out here, wherever that may be, so she sees no problem in changing right next to her car. A lucky soul might have caught a glimpse of a half naked Sofia but chances for that are slim.
Once changed she locks the vehicle and heads off, destination unknown -it doesn't matter anyway.
So she runs, tries to flee from the images that have haunted her all the way out here.
Bell. Shot. Falling. Her gun, her fault.
She runs faster.
Bell, from another angle. Facing her as he is shot. Falls. Still her gun. Still her fault.
She runs faster, starts counting down a list of her favourite songs, anything to distract herself. It works up until number three, then Bell comes back, turns, is shot, falls. Her bullet, right through his vest.
She's panting, hard, has lost track of time and direction. Exhaustedly she slumps down on a patch of grass and takes a look around. Her eyes squint in the sun as she assesses the neighbourhood. Everything looks peaceful and perfect to her, so unlike the Vegas she's used to.
There are children playing in the frontyards, an old lady walking with a dog. On the opposite side a young couple holding hands -life like it's supposed to be.
She doesn't belong here, feels very out of place. So when her breathing has slowed down she gets up on her feet and trots down the direction she believes she came from. All she concentrates on is remembering where she left the car. And for a few minutes there is no Bell on her mind.