She sprinted through the maze of corridors that made up this part of the NCIS building until she reached a fire exit she pounded through it feeling the sunlight bounce off her skin. She ran until every breathe burnt and her legs screamed but still the tears kept coming. When she finally stopped miles from NCIS she had no idea where about in the city she was, she looked around, the houses around her were small and crammed, some were vacant with broken windows. This was obviously not a good part of town. A group of youths who should have been in school were staring at her. Ziva put her head down and started walking, she did not want to attract attention to herself. As soon as she turned the corner onto a empty street she walked round the back of one of the vacant lots and kicked the door in, not even bothering to pick the lock, what was one more broken door in an area like this?
She moved swiftly through the house checking she was alone, it was the sought of place low cost prostitutes brought their clients but the place was empty, just a hollow shell. Just like her.
Ziva sat down on the floor, there was no furniture but she did not mind, she had spent a lot of those three months sat on a cold concrete floor.
The tears were still running down her face but Ziva did not even notice, she was thinking of one of the few things that he had said that were not centred on her torture "I am a good man, I obey only my God" she had had spat at him then "And the man who pays you". He had slapped her then, not maliciously, because he could, just an open handed slap to the face. "Remember who you are speaking to" he had said and then he had left her.
As if she could forget.
Her phone rang again. She knew that as soon as she answered it they would start the trace, they would be looking for her even now. She got up leaving the phone on the floor, she knew how to do this, how to disappear, how to be unfindable. She left the building, walking swiftly west she soon reached a wealthier part of the city, turning to look in a shop window when a police car rolled passed. All the while she was thinking about her options, about her plan. She had no cash and had no means of reaching any of her contacts. She would not bring her father into this. All she had was her knife and her back up. She sighed there was no point to this, no point in fighting, no point in running. She was just too tired, tired of it all.