My hand trembles as I reach for the doorknob, only now contemplating whether it will be locked. The police tape is already falling off the doorway, the sad notion throwing me off kilter that time doesn’t stop even when someone's life is cut short. Would it be the same if I died? Would there be a brief sadness before the world kept turning, my existent slowly being forgotten? Did my existence even matter at all or was I just deluding myself into thinking i mattered more than I actually did? Does my life have any meaning if no one is going to remember me when I'm gone? 

The door opens with ease, swinging inwards to a dark apartment. I tip toe in, shutting the door quietly behind me, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness since the utilities wouldn't have been paid since more than a month ago. I put my hand in my left side pocket, letting the feel of the gun calm my nerves a little.
As my eyes adjust to the moonlight I begin to notice the state of the apartment. Jason had mentioned it had been in disarray when they went to go check on Brooke but i didn’t expect it to be this bad. My bedroom door to my left is wide open, my belongings thrown about. The kitchen in front of me has a drying rack, the long since dried dishes either shattered or chipped. Soap has been knocked over and the green liquid oozing out of it, falling over the edge of the counter in a waterfall of sludge. The living and dining area to my right are dishevelled, Brooke’s bedroom door open, beckoning me into the dark. I take a startled step back as I notice the dark stain next to the dining table on the carpet.
God, it’s so big. I walk closer, the spatter on the wall and dining table making me nauseous.
I sink to my knees, falling onto my forearms, my head bowed.
“It was my fault. I’m so sorry Brookey, it’s all my fault. I’m so sorry” I sob into the sickening silence.
I can’t get up, the guilt pounding down on me like a thousand stones, making it hard to breathe through the tears.
I struggle to lean back onto my knees, raising my head.
What am I supposed to do? I need to make them pay, I need to make Brandon pay, but how? All I have is this gun and little to no information on the bastards. 

“I need more info on the Lion’s” I say a loud, trying to voice out my thoughts.
“I’m happy to oblige” a deep voice says beside me and I scramble back, my back hitting the kitchen counter.
A man hovers in the doorway, his body relaxed, surrounded by the corridor light. He pushes his jacket back, just enough so I can see his gun.
“You're from the Lion’s?” I ask.
“Correct pumpkin. Forced to do this shitty shift of waiting near the apartment in case you rock up.” He takes a step inside. “Now, will you make this easy or difficult?”
“Why do you want me so badly?” I ask, getting myself up off the ground, slowly.
The man shrugs his shoulders, I can barely make out his face in the dim lighting. “Boss’s orders.”
“So you're only an underling?”
“Well that makes me sound pathetic” he chuckles, continuing to come closer.
“Why did Leah and the others leave the Lion’s?” This could be my only chance to find out any information. He may not know why I'm wanted but he’ll definitely know their backstory.
The man laughs, “oh those stupid kids? They got scared and ran.”
“What do you mean? They don’t seem the type to run.”
“You’d be surprised. The minute we started going up in the world Leah took those outsiders and ran. She always liked playing leader.”
“That’s very true” I snark. “What do you mean you guys were going up in the world?”
“Well aren’t you a curious one” he chuckles.
I slowly put my hand in my pocket, trying to keep him distracted. “So you’re not going to tell me?”
“My boss can tell you anything you want if you come with me nicely.”
I hastily grab the gun and point it at him. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Don’t hurt yourself kid, drop the gun.”
“Why does no one take me seriously when I am waving a gun at them?” I grouch, waving the gun for emphasis.
The man halts his movements as I click the safety off.“You’ve never shot a gun have you?”
“Does it matter? All I have to do is aim. Even if I miss my intended area I’ll still hit something, and it’ll hurt.”
“You're feistier than I thought you would be. Brandon will like that.”
“I don’t really care what Brandon likes. I’ll definitely like it when I shoot him between the eyes” I hiss. “Now leave before I shoot you.”
“Can’t do that.”
“I have a gun pointed at you” I cry.
“And I have a job to do. I’m not like those Tiger cubs. Us, Lions, don’t scare easily. You think I haven’t been hurt before?”
“I hate that you call us cubs. Makes me feel little” Jason mopes, his own gun now pointed at the man, his body surrounded by light like a full body halo.
“Jason” I exclaim and suddenly my wrists stings as the gun is smacked out of it by the man, bringing out his own to shoot Jason. Jason shoots as he ducks behind the dining table, the man’s shot making a splintered hole in the wood.
I drop to my hands and knees to scramble for the gun. The man kicks me in the side and I crumble inward, gasping as the breath is knocked out of me.
“Don’t touch her” Jason cries before shooting again, making the man duck behind the kitchen bench, shooting his own shot. I grunt as I move towards the bookshelf on all fours, grabbing the heaviest thing I can find, a large amethyst bookend, and throw it at the man. He shouts as it makes an impact with his head, blood instantly gushing out of the wound.
I lunge at him and wrestle for the gun, grappling as shots go off. I manage to smack it away as I’m thrown roughly onto the ground, my back hitting the cold tiles. I gasp as he straddles me, gripping my throat tightly.
“You’ll pay for this, you little bitch” he snarls.
I scratch desperately at his hands. I try to kick out but he’s too heavy on me, his body weight on my lungs. I try clawing at his face, embedding my nails into his cheek as I rip downwards. I struggle helplessly as my heart thunders in my ears, my lungs burning in agony over lack of oxygen. My focus starts to blur, my body not responding to my plea to push him away. They’re becoming heavy,as if they’re water logged and trying to pull me down. 

The sudden pressure vanishes and my lungs greedily suck in air, my mind trying to hold onto consciousness.
“I said, get the fuck off of her” Jason seethes. I look up behind me and Jason stands there, his gun pointed directly at the man’s face. The man still straddles me but he sits up, his hands in a surrender position.
“Look Jason, just let me take her and we won’t bother you guys.”
“You aren’t in the position to be making suggestions. Now get off her.”
The man does as Jason says, slowly shifting his weight off me till he’s leaning over to one side. I look over and pale.
“Jason! The gun!” I scream, my throat flaring up in agony.

The man reaches for the discarded gun.

Jason takes a shot and I’m splattered with hot liquid, dead weight falling onto me.

I have a dead man on me.

I’m covered in his blood. 

My back’s cold.

My throat hurts.

I can’t concentrate.

“I’m so sorry, you’re okay” Jason says, pushing the man off me and pulling me into his arms. “It’s okay.”

“He’s dead, isn’t he? You shot him. He’s dead” I say manically, gripping his forearm tightly.
“I had to. I’m sorry. We need to get out of here. People will have heard the shots and reported it” he explains, pulling me to my feet.
I turn my face towards the man, his blood spilling out, covering the white tile as he lays face down.
“Come on” Jason pushes, covering me in his grey jacket and wiping my face haphazardly with his sleeve. I numbly follow him as he drags me out of the building and onto the street, pulling his hood over my head and putting his arm over my shoulder to block people from seeing my face.
I don’t know how long we walk for, everything is dull to my senses. Is this what seeing death is like? It’s not the first time I’ve faced death, but it is the first time I've seen someone die right in front of my eyes. Has it always been that sudden? Alive one minute and gone the next.
I touch my throat lightly, my hand shaking. My mum didn’t go that quickly. Neither did Brooke.
Oh god, what were they thinking when they were dying? Did they beg? Did they pray to God? Did they think someone would save them at the last minute or did they think survival was hopeless? Did they accept their death, even welcome it?

“Valerie, we’re here” Jason says softly, making me come back to the present.
I look up to see a neon sign hanging above a stairway, the steps leading down to a large wooden door. The sign is a tiger lounging on top of the capital letters DEN.
“Where are we?”
“It’s our bar. We come here to relax but we also run it as a business meeting place. It was closer than home so I figured we should get you out of the open as soon as possible.”
I simply nod.
I walk behind Jason as he descends, the man at the door familiar but I can’t remember his name through the fog in my head.
“You found her fast. Not surprised though” the man comments, looking down at me as he smokes his cigarette. His physical physique is intimidating, tall and heavily muscular. Smart to make him the door man. “Sylvia’s working the bar, I’m sure she’ll help little miss here. There Aren't many tonight because of the search.” He pointedly looks at me at the last part, making me shrink.
“Thanks, Vince” Jason says, pushing open the door, sweat and booze instantly assaulting my senses.

The chatter is lively for only a couple of people being here. There’s two pool tables to my left, people surrounding the farthest one.
Beside them and closer to me are a couple of small round tables for sitting and drinking. To my right is the bar, stationed at the end of the room. The bar bench wraps like an L, the wall behind it with multiple shelves of alcohol bottles. A fridge is wedged into the corner between the bench and the entryway against the wall. Beside that is a plain door, most likely the bathroom. Behind the bar and at the end a doorway is open, only accessible to the bartender.
Jason pushes me towards the bar slightly, letting me take one of the cocktail chairs. 

“Hey Sylvia. Can you help Valerie with her clothes? We had an altercation with one of the Lion’s.”
“Dead?” Sylvia asks, turning to face us. She’s a redhead and curvaceous. She wipes a shot glass clean, her hair layered and past her shoulders. My eyes catch on her golden locket on her chest, just above the scoop cut of her grey singlet.
“Yeah. No choice” Jason confirms. “I need to go take care of some stuff but Sylvia will take care of you” Jason says to me, holding my shoulder till i nod in response.
“I’ve got her” Sylvia says, giving me a pitying smile. “Come behind here, darling.”It takes me a moment to realise she’s talking to me. “Baby, can you take over for a minute?” She calls over my head to a dark-skinned guy, drinking with some others.
“No probs” he responds, slapping someone on the shoulder before wandering over.
“Come around, I won't bite,” Sylvia teases, putting the glass down.
“Unless you’re into that” the possible partner coming up to the bar with a cheeky smile.
“Read the atmosphere, Reece” she sighs.
“My bad” Reece shrugs, taking the towel from her.
I wander around the bar, Reece swinging the opening plank of wood for me. Sylvia grabs my hand and ventures through the side door, closing it behind her. A set of stairs going up towards the back of the bar is immediately in front of me. A supply closet to my left. She pulls me right, opening a door into a small but comfy room. It has a double bed against the right wall, a couch against the left. A shelving unit on the back wall filled with boxes of alcohol and other miscellaneous items. I shudder when I notice bullet boxes.
“Take off the clothes that got blood on it” Sylvia orders, beginning to rummage through one of the boxes. “Don’t worry, I won't turn around.”
“Is this a normal occurrence?” I manage to voice, my throat sore.
“Somewhat, this bar could be considered our second base. Usually it's our own blood though.”

I quickly strip off the two jackets and tshirt dress, leaving me in my tights and bra. I hold my arms around my waist, uncomfortable being so exposed.
“May I turn around?” Sylvia asks politely.
“I guess.”
She turns around with a navy shift dress in her hands.
“Ooo, nice tatts” She says cheerfully, looking me over and I blush, just wanting the dress already. 
“Thanks” I mumble, eying the dress.
To be honest it was actually nice to hear a compliment about my body, even if it’s just my tattoos.
Sylvia bends down expecting my stomach tattoo. “How long did it take?”
“A few sessions” I answer, reaching my hand out. It hurt like a bitch after each session but it was worth it. The large colourful moth wing tips reach just below my breasts and the bottom wings reach to my hips.
Sylvia smiles as she chucks me the dress.
I grab it quickly and throw it on.
“Let’s get that blood off your face, hmm?” Sylvia coaxes, grabbing my hand, pulling me through to a small sink and mirror on the wall near the entry to the bar. She lets me wash my own face, merely standing near me to provide some comfort.
I look up at my damp face. “It’s gone.”
“The blood?”
“It’s like it was never even there. It’s not like it’s the first time I've washed blood off my hands or face but it just feels different.”
“Your mum?” 

I swing my eyes to her. 

She shrugs, “word gets around.”
I grip the sink tightly, “the cops tried to stop me but I managed to grab her for a couple of seconds. Enough to cover myself in her blood. She was already gone but I couldn't stop myself.”
“We always want to cradle our loved ones. Whether they’re alive or not.”
“You lost someone?” I ask. 
Sylvia is still for a moment then nods, “my previous boyfriend. I held onto his body for hours before anyone found us.”
“I’m sorry” I reply, unsure what else to say.
“I still love him but I've done my grieving. Yours is still fresh.”
“He was right there, I could feel his hands around my neck. The next thing I know he’s on the floor, dead.”
“Does it make you feel any better knowing he wasn’t a good guy?” Sylvia suggests.
I hesitate but I think some small part of me is a little glad. “Is it wrong that I don't feel guilty? I feel off, that’s for sure, but I can’t say I’m sad. He died quickly, my family did not.”