I got up and stumbled down the hall leading to the shop's back room. My torso screamed, but I ignored it, refusing to let the pain slow me down. I flipped the light switch on. Going through the stacks of cardboard boxes, I grabbed whatever could be useful to me--a blanket, some plastic bags to keep food in, a phone charger. It seemed that Sama had left most of her old belongings here from university. Several times I had to stop and breathe for the sake of my wound. I stuffed my findings into an old backpack, and swung it over my shoulder.

Back at the cashier desk, I yanked open the cashier and buried the rolls of money into the bottom of the backpack. These were the hard-earned dollars that people exchanged for a bottle of spirits. I fought down my revulsion, both at the customers and myself.

Finally, I draped a spare blanket over my sister, covering the ugly wound. I stepped back. Leaning against the wall, with only blood and dirty first aid supplies keeping her company, she didn't look like she was sleeping. She looked tired, bruised and alone.

"I'll make it up to you," I told her. I didn't know what my next course of action was, or what I was even promising. Nox's face flashed before my eyes, but he wouldn't be enough to bring Sama back. I gripped onto my anger anyway. It was better than the hollow ache threatening to consume me.

I grabbed the keys from the desk and unlocked the door, then the diamond-grated gate. Shut them. Locked them from the outside. I tried to peer in the shop, but I couldn't make out anything in the darkness except the sliver of light coming from the back room. That was okay. The least I could do is leave Sama with some light.

In the eyes of the city, I was a shopkeeper closing up for the night. To me, it was shutting out the world, and leaving behind the only person I cared about.

The End. 

I loved writing Sama's character. I wish Tapas would let me include pictures here; I've sketched out the characters.