As she wheeled around the corner, hope welling in her chest as this is where Angeline believed her ‘saviour’ would be. The alley-way was dark and she did hear voices, she had to take a moment to adjust her eyes, making sure she wouldn’t accidentally run her mouth to some drunken uni students, or something of the sorts. As she adjusted, realisation had dawned on her. A sick feeling washed over her and she dropped her bag in shock. Her footing started failing on her and she stumbled a few steps before she collapsed to her knees, her eyes staring wide at the body on the floor before her. She had never seen a dead body before. The commanding sound of the police officer seemed distant, her head was spinning she was sure she was about to faint, unable to tear her eyes from the bloodied body, but before she was able to faint a quick rush and tense of her muscles caused her to throw up whatever was left of last night’s strict-diet dinner and copious amounts of bile, her hands supporting her body from collapsing into the ground.

Angeline vaguely recognised that there were shadows over her, so she looked up weakly at the police officers, whose guns were pointed at her. She opened her mouth to speak but immediately vomited again, tears streaming down her face and thick bile dripping from her open lips, forcing herself to focus on the ground and not the person- no, body, laying before her. The realisation that she would probably be joining him dawned on her. For a moment complete shock seized her body, and it had actually forced a weak, sick laugh to come out… Of course, she would be joining that poor soul. Their blood would mix together, a connection so uniquely given to the most unfortunate. Of course. Who did she think she was? For a brief moment, she had actually believed she might have been someone, or something more than she was. Some kind of galivanting hero on the run. All these thoughts whizzed through her head within the seconds it took for the police to approach her and now she supposed she should beg for her life like the pathetic little girl she was. Surrounded in a pool of vomit which was now mingling with some blood that continued to flow out of the body she finally lifted her weary head and raised her hands off the floor and managed to force out a hoarse, bubbly, and rather pathetic “Don’t… Shoot…… Please….”