𝐀 𝐂𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ⚠ 𝘑. 𝘉. 𝘉

𝟎𝟐 𝘞𝘦'𝘳𝘦 𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘋𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘣𝘦𝘥 𝘛𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵

TW: Attempted and actual murder and violence with weapons.

[Nowhere To Run - Stegosaurus Rex]
1:40 ─〇───── 2:13
⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

Madelyn's POV

𝟕:𝟐𝟏𝐩𝐦

My once-heavy footsteps decrease in sound the further I get into the city. My breathing and trembling hands are somewhat controlled as I pass the mass destruction through the streets. Leaves blow in the wind, ashes blowing in the air from the fire at the end of the road. Dark and pungent smells of rotten flesh waft up my nose, the ashes creating a black cast in my nostrils. But all of that isn't my priority right now. I need to get to Daisy.

My manner is now discreet upon hearing a commotion coming down the street. I turn my head to see a blurry vision of a bright van driving down the street. Men stick their heads out of the windows, their faces covered by horrific and terrifying masks. Guns, knives, and flame throwers plastered in their hands, they shout as they travel down the empty street.

I pick up my pace, hunching my back slightly, trying to make my body seem small. I make it to an alleyway, throwing my back against the brick wall, and closing my eyes. The fear quickens inside me, forcing my breaths to come out fast and shaky. I cover my mouth with my hands, muffling my trembling breaths. The noise quiets as they pass, the bright lights from the car seeping through my closed eyes, making the dark view under my eyelids slightly brighter. When the noise halts altogether, I remove my hands from my mouth and open my eyes. The streets are empty again, and the night is quiet.

From the opening of the alleyway, and one of my exits, a body covers the area, wielding a sharp knife. He stalk towards me, his wicked smile covered by his mask. He picks up his pace, holding the knife forward, aimed at my body. I sprint away, keeping the rising scream in the pit of my throat, not wanting to alert any more attention. My feet carry me down the road, away from the now-running maniac with a knife.

I make it to the Hospital, and all the inside lights are turned off and the doors shut. Not thinking twice about it, I raise my elbows to the door, smashing through the glass. I ignore the sourcing pain in my cut skin, the blood trickling down my arm and seeping into the material of my clothes. Stepping through the broken frame, I don't look back, too afraid that I'll see a pack of them coming my way. Footsteps behind me quicken my movements, forcing me to run down the halls. Their taunting voices follow me into the building, stalking each room and searching for me.

With my mind running a mile a minute, I panic and shove myself under a desk, covering my mouth and nose with my hands. Tears trickle down my cheeks, seeping under my hands and wetting my upper lip. My eyes bloodshot and breathing subdued, I pray for the assailants to disperse. To just leave me alone.

Their voices get louder the closer they get to me, echoing through the dark walls. I see their bodies through the windows, their piercing eyes watching every corner through their masks. One of the bangs on the desk from behind me, making my body jolt in fear. Fingers peer through the opening, holding the wood tightly. A face slowly appears upside down, looking at my body holding itself under the desk. With the knife in his hand, he pokes it into the space, scraping my cheek. Grabbing me by my hair, he pulls me from under the desk and throws me across the floor.

He stalks towards me, presenting the now bloody knife as a prized possession. With his body near mine, I kick his knee, forcing his body down to the ground. He sits on his knees, groaning at the sudden pain. I lean back, raising my legs again. I kick him in the chest, hard, forcing his body backwards. Stumbling upwards, I grab the first thing I see on the counter, holding it tightly. My knuckles turn white as I put all my strength into holding a syringe. With it empty, I hope I can get close enough the get to a delicate part of his body to harm him. Maybe his eye.

The man stands up again, his chest rising and falling quickly as he breathes out. His stance is tall and he holds his hands beside his body, fists held in anger. He jolts his body towards me, grabbing me by the throat. I raise the syringe, aiming for his open eyes, but he knocks it out of my hand before I can get close enough the inflict any harm. He tackles me to the ground, sitting astride my chest and replacing his hand around my throat with his knife.

"You little bitch." He spits.

The knife is pressed deeper into the skin, drawing thick, red blood. It sinks down my throat, mixing with the sweat and hair behind my neck. I kick my legs frantically, trying to escape his tight grip on my body. His head is whipped to the side at a hard crack noise. He falters slightly, the hold on my body loosening. With his attention now turned to the other in the room, I get away from him, cowering in the corner. I feel the wound on my neck, feeling the blood slowly lowering in its amount. The cut wasn't that deep, luckily.

The man swings his knife in the air, trying to hit the man who saved me. He gets a hit on the man, slashing across his stomach. The cut looks deep, and instantly, crimson liquid floods through his bright shirt. Knocking back into action, I jump back up and creep towards the masked purger. From behind him, I grab his wrists, holding the knife in place. The other man, holding his wounded stomach, grabs the knife from his hands and plunges it into the man's chest. It's deep enough to draw a harsh breath from him, but not enough to stick out the other end of his body and harm me.

He continues stabbing, aiming for his throat and face. I let go of his body when I feel it begin to droop, letting him fall to the floor. The man hovers over him, taking the final stab to the head and stealing the life from his eyes.

The room falls silent, the atmosphere full of fear and painful tension. The man turns to look at me, his hands, face, and stomach covered in blood. A mixture of his and the other man's blood. He looks shocked at his sudden actions, but before he can begin to comprehend them, his knees give way. I catch his body before he hits the floor, pulling him under the desk with me. Noise burrows down the halls as the other masked men storm the building, trashing the rooms and screaming for me to come out.

I apply pressure to the man's wound, making him groan in pain. He bites his knuckles to refrain from screaming out and alerting the others. I reach out from the desk, hearing the group walking further down the halls and away from us. Picking up a first aid kit, I hold it firmly in my hands, still pressing down onto his stomach.

"Look, I don't know you," I whisper. "But you saved me, and now you need to let me do the same to you. But, we can't stay here. We're just sitting ducks for them."

"Mhh." He tries to speak through his knuckles.

I step out from under the desk, placing his hand on his wound. Dragging his body out, I pick him up and hold his body with his arm over my shoulders. He slumps against me, trying to stay cautious long enough for us to make our escape. I follow the signs on the wall, reading the entrance arrow and making it towards the door. We walk through the broken glass, stepping out onto the street. He limps as we make it across the street and towards the abandoned bookstore opposite the Hospital. I would go further, but the man's eyelids are slowly closing, and I won't be able to carry his heavy, lifeless body across town.

The door is open, so we burrow through it. I place him on the floor, carefully placing him on his back. Locking the door and holding a chair under the handle, I turn back to him. He looks sedated, but still in pain. I remove his hand from his stomach, taking off my jacket, scrunching it up, and holding it over the wound. Blood quickly soaks into the material, staining it permanently. He holds the jacket onto his wound, biting his lips in pain.

I pick up some books from the floor, them all scattered around the fallen shelves. Ripping out pages, I throw them towards the entrance of the store. Crouching down at the cashier's desk, I find a roll of tape, new and untouched. Biting off pieces of tape, I grab a sheet of paper, and tape it onto the window, hiding us inside the room. The more I place on the glass, the darker the room becomes, making it harder to see the man lying down in agony.

With all of the front windows covered, I turn my focus back to the injured man, seeing him slowly slipping out of consciousness. I sit beside his head, replacing my hand over his wound. He doesn't groan as I do, telling me that he has fallen asleep. I lift his eyelids, watching his pupil still dilating. He's still with me. I just need to keep it that way.

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