Hunted

Act 11; Life and Death and Memories

She took the elevator.

It was a brisk walk from her dressing room to the door, and all the while she thought she felt eyes all over her body, watching her every step, calculating every next order. She shivered at the thought, but didn't let it show until she was alone in closed quarters.

She leaned on the wall so abruptly the metal clanked. She hugged herself, and even though she wore a thick parka over her T, a baseball cap, jeans and sneakers, and even though the entire facility was heated to suit the autumn chill, she felt cold.

She felt cold and empty and scared and alone. And she was glad there was a blind spot on the elevator camera where she could hide her figure. Her fingers were shaking to the point where she couldn't hold her grip. Her lips were shaking so she had to bite them down. Her eyes felt wet and her vision sometimes blurred so she had to close her eyes.

God, she was scared.

Mother, watch over me.

The elevators reached the ground floor and she had to straighten herself once the doors opened. She sighed a shuttering breath before making her way through the back lobby, usually used by the staff hand and a getaway for the performers.

She thanked as many employees as she could for their hard work, a habit she picked up while training in Japan during her last elementary years, and exited the facility.

It was a cold night that seeped its way into her clothes and she suddenly wished she wore her faux fur coat. But that would grab attention, and the instructions explicitly told her to be as low-key as possible.

She hugged herself, not knowing if it was to shield herself from the external cold or the internal one, and trudged through the alley toward the street.

She paused when she reached the sidewalk. The buildings surrounded the wide asphalt like towering spires competing to reach the sky, its lights replacing the stars but not even coming close when it came to beauty. Cars sped pass her like every other day, their blurs as the only remnants in her vision, and people walked by her like she was everybody else, like she was nobody special; couples on dates, groups having fun, families together, and individuals minding their own business. It was still Mariposa's Arts Festival after all, and people were still in multitude.

Her performance was the finale of the event, but stalls lingered, shops remained open for the active, and tomorrow was a school day she wasn't looking forward to since it'd be a day she wouldn't be a part of.

She tilted her head up to try and make heads or tails of the sky, but the clouds were thick and she didn't know what face of the moon she was supposed to see. She blew a breath, but was disappointed when it wasn't visible. Winter was her favorite season, the cold and the beauty of the pale snow on the black streets, but it seemed she wouldn't be a part of it. She wouldn't be here to see it.

A tear escaped her eye and she violently wiped it away. She sighed a shuttering breath, closed her eyes and tried to find something-anything-that'd keep her mind still.

Mother, watch over me.

She ran, bumped into one person or two and sometimes finding herself in the middle of a group she didn't know but didn't care since she kept running. She ran through streets, stopped to catch her breath on red lights, and ran again. Sometimes she'd be in a crowd, other times she'd be all alone in an avenue with only stragglers in the corners. She kept running.

And then she stopped.

It was a tall building that must have reached forty stories. The tallest apartment building in the city that was closed off since early august after a kidnapping case. Amelia never really knew what the details of the event were, but she knew bits and pieces. A mother and daughter were kidnapped, then saved by an unknown third party. The lackeys were dealt with by said third party and arrested by police who arrived later on. The head kidnapper was found dead with six bullet holes in the body. The complex was shut down since.