"Please! Don't kill me! I'll do anything!"
The man comes into view and she recognises him as one of the four who harassed her earlier.
"Please don't," he pleads pathetically.
He makes a choked gulping noise and trembles to the ground.
"Please…I didn't…" he makes another choked noise.
Perhaps he is locating a response to appease her?
She frowns, then stares past him.
Instead of the exit, there is a glowing light that illuminates from the very end of the pub corridor.
I've taken a wrong turn.
"Just leave," she says quietly and instantly the man scrambles out of sight.
She approaches the illumination and peruses the faint glow that seeps from under the door. And as her gaze tracks the handle, she sees a wet substance leaking from beneath the crack.
Fresh blood.
Her hand flies to the handle and she yanks it open.
Three men from earlier, scattered across the room, lifeless.
Their expression, heavily inundated with fear, is so flagrant, they must have died faster than their minds could register.