M gripped my arm and I wriggled away from his iron grasp. Scar and Bruise — the other two young men — leapt forward as I stumbled back. Right as they were about to tackle M — 

BANG!

Dexter shot another bullet that hit the floor, making us jump and offering M a chance to run. 

He charged at me again and I sprinted towards the exit, my heart ramming into my chest, as if it would burst out any moment. My mind raced. There was one guy with a gun who'd already killed Desmond, and there was another who wanted to kill me. 

Was I going to die tonight?

Just as M swiped at me, I sprung forward, evading the attack, but my hip rammed into the corner of a table and I fell again.

Curse my damn clumsiness!

My bag was still on the ground near the table, and I lifted it up to block M's next punch. His fist collided with the leather as I sprang to my feet. From the bag dropped my water bottle, which my hand caught just in time. 

All of a sudden, a small spark of flames burst out from above and around M's hand, and a  cold blade of fear stabbed right through my heart, sending shockwaves of panic pulsating through my body.

Fire — it was the one thing that terrified me most. 

With a flinch, M swore and shook his arm — as if to shake away the fire — but I was already moving. Not thinking, just moving.

A shriek tore from my throat as the water from the bottle burst out and shot towards the flames on its own. But even when the miniscule blaze diminished into steam, I kept waving my hand, dictating the water's movements. No thought, no reason, just running on pure adrenaline. 

For a moment, I wasn't seeing M or his fire or the bar around me. For a moment, I was transported right back to my high school hallways in the dead of the night, where the stench of gasoline trenched through the air along with the smoke of the fire.

And then I was back. My liquid weapon splashed it over and over on M's hand, his sleeve, his mask — practically everywhere, as if he himself was engulfed in flames.

But it didn't last long. I could hear the footsteps and past laughter of Shiro and Kennedy again, echoing through that old hallway, those old memories, before my brain flickered back to the present. 

"Stop!" I screeched, more water splashing right onto M's face. "Stop it, stop it, stop chasing me, Shiro —"

SMACK!

My screech turned into a shout of pain.

"Jeez!" M shouted after he whacked me in the face. "You're up there for the list of crazy people I've met!" 

It was then that I really flashed back to reality, trying to absorb everything around me. I'd been thrown on the floor, Dexter's gunshots boomed in the background as he toiled with Scar and bruise, and M was pinning me down.

In his raised fist was a needle. 

I struggled, grunted, tried to push him off me in a desperate panic, but nothing worked. Why? Why could I just break free?

M stabbed the syringe into my arm, a tiny pinch of pain sprouting in my skin. He pulled the needle out and grabbed me by the wrist, but I rolled over — why was I so much slower now? — and sloppily scrambled to my feet for the billionth time.

"Oy!" Scar shouted from across the room. "Leave her alone. Dexter and his group are down, so you're outnumbered. Give up now or —"

THWACK!

M shoved Scar off like he was a mere feather, whacking him right in the head. Scar let out a grunt of pain and I stumbled forward to help — why was I suddenly so uncoordinated? — but he waved a hand and mouthed, Go, now!

Who was I to disobey a sensible order?

An inaudible shout came from Scar's masked companion, Bruise, who darted over to his friend, abandoning Dexter's and his unconscious henchmen.

Scar was stuck struggling against the enemy's swipes and hits, but his friend tackled M to the floor.

I fumbled and spun around, snatching my bag and booking it straight to the door. The entrance was wide open and empty, but as I got closer, all the noise around me started to fade. Why was my head all fogged up? Why was I so groggy all? Was it the injection? It had to be the injection.

My eyes widened in realization as I reached the doors, the scent of fresh air only barely reaching my nose. My feet went numb and my vision kept flashing from the grass I stumbled upon to a black abyss.

THUD!

I hit the ground, drowsiness overtaking me as my eyelids suddenly weighed a hundred pounds. I didn't have the strength to keep them open.

The chill of the night air was the last smell entering my nose, before it faded out. The sounds of shouts and gunshots — from outside, not inside the bar — was the last sound entering my ears, before it faded out. The sight of the sidewalk I'd fallen on was the last thing to enter my vision, before it faded out. 

Before everything faded out, and the darkness ate up my conscience.