LYNN

Run, she had to keep running because her life depended on it. With a hand pressed as tightly on the bullet wound as she could, with the little bit of energy she had left in her, she ran. She ran faster than she had ever ran before.

Fear was oozing out of her just as much as the blood, am inextinguishable fear that made her blood run cold. Even though she was half sure that they weren't following her, she still felt their eyes burning into her skin as she took small fast steps.

Lynn turned into a dark alleyway and pressed her back onto the wall, and let herself slide down.

Maybe she should just stay here and wait for inevitable death.

That's probably why they stopped following her, because she was going to die anyway. So what would be the point other than senselessly giving themselves more work.

But she wasn't going to let herself die, it was way too early for that, too early. With the free arm, she pushed herself off the cold floor, pain instantly shooting through her gut, where the bullet had hit.

"Shit." She hissed.

Slowly she started to walk through the city, with the flickering lights. Why did everything have to be so goddamn scary?

Her walk was slow and weak, but she was determined, determined to find someone who would be ready to help her.

She did manage to walk a few blocks, maybe even more, her vision was clouded and she couldn't tell where she was going. But Lynn could've been half certain that she was in the upside of town, that part with the mansion and the stuck up rich people.

But right now, those stuck up rich people may have been her one and only hope. Even though her brain was screaming at her, telling her that she was doing something completely stupid., her will to live was screaming at her even louder, telling her to keep going.

So she ignored every single red light that went off in her brain, every time her conscience told her: "Nobody here will help you because you're not like them." Lynn brushed it off and continued anyway.

She walked looking for a house, no scratch that, a mansion that still had the lights on.

It wouldn't be that hard certainly, but her vision was getting faulty. Blck spots kept coming and going, that was it, the sign that she was disconnecting and that the end was near.

With the last bit of that she could muster up, Lynn crossed the road towards something that looked like a house with the lights still on. And with desperation her free hand reached out and hit a random button on the intercom again and again.

"Who is it?"

"Help... please." her voice was cracking and slowly becoming soft. With a loud thud she fell onto the ground. Her body limp, almost lifeless. Half dead some might say. The hand on her wound slowly slid down until it lay next to her half dead body. 



ZACHARY

"Who is it?" He asked through the intercom. He hoped it wasn't some sort of joke that would keep him for more than he actually needed to. It happened to him once, a group of teenagers thought it as a good idea to come and play with his intercom thing a little bit, needless to say he wasted fifteen minutes of what could've been a really productive day.

"Help... please." And then he heard a weird thud. What the actual fuck was going on? 

Deep down he wanted to believe that this was just some kind of joke and just let it be, but then again, there was a fifty fifty chance that this wasn't also a joke and in that case, he needed to do something.

Either it was a joke or someone needed help. He decided that it was the latter. 

With fast steps, he went outside. Obviously, he didn't forget to pick up his car keys, just in case he was going to have to take someone to the hospital. Call it his instinct, but the call for help he heard, wasn't someone who was on the verge of getting raped or anything, it was that of someone who was injured and maybe even badly.

Dammit, the problem with big houses. No matter how fast he walked, it still felt like he was walking through a maze, every turn he took felt like he was going down the same path over and over again. 

Never had these familiar walls felt so suffocating. 

He kept going down the halls until he was going down the main staircase that led straight to the door. 

Well, he did hope that he wasn't too late and that instead of finding someone half dead or severely injured, he'd find someone who was completely dead. Which of course he didn't want. Imagine the headlines: ZACHARY MARTINS PLAYBOY MURDERER. Or maybe even something worst than that: ZACH THE MAN WHO KILLS THE LADIES. That one could be taken both figuratively, and literally. 

He opened the front door, and went straight towards the gate. Why was he rushing though? It could be another one of those silly pranks again. Man he hated those with all his heart.

"Hey boss."

"Just open the goddamned gate Micheal." He said without even looking back at the man who had talked to him.

What he saw made him wish it was all a prank. Nothing would have prepared him for the bloodbath he came upon. It was both disgusting and shocking. Everything from there on out happened in a flash. From the moment he picked her up, to when he put her in the car and drove her to the hospital. To him pacing in the halls of the ER. Everything was fast and everything was a blur. 

"Will she need a surgery?" He asked himself out loud.

"Obviously, it was a fucking bullet wound you dimwit." The reasonable part of him at that moment bit back. He felt stupid, but in moments of stress of course he had no other choice but to feel fucking stupid. I mean, he found a girl laying on the ground, with blood seeping out of her. When he had found her, most of her body was already getting colder. She was basically on the verge of death.

The worst part, she didn't have anything on her, no phone, no bag nothing just a bullet wound and a hand coated in her own blood.  

A rather tall nurse, wearing blue scrubs and her hair up in a ponytail approached him.

"The doctor wants to see you." She said with a small reassuring smile onto her face.

He knew that this was about, this was the moment they would ask him a million questions about a girl he knew nothing about.