ᴀʙsᴇɴᴛɪᴀ | ᴊᴀʏ ʜᴀʟsᴛᴇᴀᴅ

𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚞𝚎.

✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:*

The rays beat down, drops of sweat forming on her forehead. Her heart races faster than should be humanly possible as the heels of her boots slam on the pavement with each step. Gun weighing heavily in her hand, she turns around the corner of another abandoned building and sees a chance to escape.

Cutting through the small patch of grass, she doesn't look back as she enters the dense forest hoping to get lost in it. She weaves through the trees, ducking under branches and sidestepping leaves. Leaping over a fallen trunk, she ignores the pain that shoots through her ankle as it twists on the landing. A loud bang pops off behind her, and her shoulder collides against a nearby tree before she pushes off to try and keep her momentum.

Realizing she needs to take the risk, she slumps forward against a thick branch and tries to catch her breath. She glances over her shoulder to search for where the shot could've come from, brows drawing together when all they land on is a sea of bark and leaves. Finger ready on the trigger, her other hand slides down to press against her side and even though she can't feel any pain, her fingers come away drenched in blood. Gritting her teeth, she tightens her grip on the cool metal and pushes off the ground. The sound of a deep voice calling out to his partner in Russian alerts her and she peers back, firing off three shots without stopping her legs from carrying her forward. Bullets fly past her head and she makes a hard left turn, blindly pulling the trigger a few more times. She knows the clip is almost out and she needs to save the rounds, so she hides behind the thickest trunk and leans against it. Chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, her eyes take in the area around her for anything that can be used as a weapon. Before she resigns herself to having to go for another round of hand-to-hand, her eyes catch on a small clearing of the trees and she makes a break for it.

Emerging through, she picks up speed as the ground takes her down a hill and into the large open area of a park. Everything around her is a stark contrast to the circumstances surrounding her reason for being there; the chirping birds, the laughing kids, the picnicking families. It's been too long since she's done anything so pure, seen anything so pure.

Spotting a small building where there are public restrooms, she rushes behind it, flattening her body against the wall. She closes her eyes and takes a few breaths, trying to filter out the city noises for anything suspicious. Hoping that the public area discouraged her pursuers, she holds her breath before opening her eyes and slowly peering around the corner. She slowly lets it out in relief when no one else emerges from the woods, resting her head back against the wall with a dull thud.

As her heart rate slows back to normal and the adrenaline starts to wear off, pain rushes through her body. Her hand flies to her side, finally remembering where the blade had cut through muscle not long ago. Putting pressure on the wound, she clenches her jaw to keep from crying out and assesses her next move. She peers left then right, eyes bouncing between buildings before landing on a police station. Because of course.

With another deep breath, she makes her way towards the street at a much more normal pace, the ache in her foot finally settling in and demanding her to limp. She squeezes her eyes shut and pushes through the pain, blood seeping between her fingers when she increases the pressure. If she wasn't losing so much blood, she would probably be more alarmed by the fact that not a single person seems to mind a bleeding woman with a gun walking past them.

The price you pay to live in Chicago, apparently.

Finally stopping in front of the station, she pauses in front of it and stares. The moment is surreal, a moment she's been imagining for the past three years. A moment that meant freedom.

Stumbling her way up the steps, she keeps the gun tight against her body as she shuffles her way inside the busy precinct. No one even notices her, patrol officers brushing past her without so much as a glance. Our tax dollars at work, ladies and gentlemen.

She limps the final few feet to the front desk, hooded lids struggling to stay open as her mind begins to blur. Slowly lifting the gun, she gently places it on the counter with a light clank and glances up. She barely meets the alarmed eyes of the desk sergeant before her own roll back into her head and she collapses.

Falling to the ground, her head bounces off the tile with a comically loud thud. The last thing she focuses on is an oddly shaped water stain on the ceiling.

And then the world goes black.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧