Gwyn frowned. How the fuck had she gotten into this mess? For days she had been cooped up in this shitty hotel room trying to forge a plan. She'd looked everywhere for anything to defend herself but all she could find was a fucking knife, and not even a big one. This guy was a coward, Gwyn was half-glad he was gone. He'd left a day earlier and hadn't returned, at least she was the way she wanted to be - alone.

There was some pot left and a couple smokes that she put in her bag, along with the knife, cell phone and some makeup. Just because the world was in terror didn't mean she could let go of herself, right? 

Gwyn slowly opened the front door and surveyed her surroundings. There wasn't much around so she figured she could make a run for it. The room was on the first floor, and the stairs weren't far. She could go down, through the lobby and right out the front door. Where would she go from there? This place was a good walk away from anyone she knew, and it was too risky to go out with just a small knife. Fuck, fuck, think! But she didn't. Gwyneth ran out, leaving the door open and rushing down the stairs. 

There was a loud groaning. 

"Oh my fucking..." Gwyn tried to control her breathing. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. She noticed a guy standing in the lobby whom she had failed to notice before. Her voice came out as a whisper as she raised her knife. It was pathetic but at least it was something. "Are you OK? You're not... whatever, right?"