Mara ran till she could run no more. She was miles away from the dark alley, from the dead man left to rot and ruin.

Her stomach heaved at the thought of the man, lying in his blood, vermin devouring his flesh, his skin red with gore.

Her calves burned as her breath formed clouds in the freezing cold air. The sun had set and the temperature dropped further. The faint glow from the street lamps were perhaps the only thing that kept her going, made her feel safe in a place which would otherwise be as dark and frightening as the unlit alley, now marred with blood.

When she reached the shabbily stuffy apartment she called home, her breath steadied after what seemed as a long time.

The nondescript ramshackled building was situated in an apparently uninviting area of the Westside, inhabited by those who barely managed to make ends meet. Frowned at by people, known as elites from the better parts of the city, this area of dirt, dust and filth was her only refuge. She climbed through the dingy stairs, covered with cigarette buds and made way to the cramped apartment on the second floor.

The door of her house was wide open. A man was sprawled on the floor, in a pool of vomit and booze, his eyes shut and oblivious to the world.

An empty bottle of liquor lay open at Mara's feet. Its contents no doubt spilt on the floor. The scene in front of her wasn't something new, most days it was how she was welcomed at home.

But today was nothing like most days. She had witnessed a murder and the murderer was after her life. Her head felt heavy and she realised that she had been shivering.

Closing the door after her, she trod carefully around her father's unconscious form, avoiding the foul mess soiling the floor. She then scurried to her room in the far corner of the tiny, pathetic house.

Half an hour later, her eyes swollen and her chest sore from crying, she turned her face up to the stinging water flowing from the tap. The biting droplets made her body numb, removing all her fears, her worries. Over the years she had grown accustomed to and even enjoyed the feel of ice-cold droplets on her smooth skin, regenerating her sore muscles and soothing her joints after long hours of practice on the school field.
They couldn't afford warm water anyway but it didn't bother her much. She had made peace with her forlorn situation years ago. She remained under the tap until her skin pruned. Dressing in a clean shirt, she walked back to her room and heard her father groan. Ignoring him, she texted the manager of the diner she worked in, stating her inability to resume work for the day owing to a sudden illness.

Lying on her disheveled bed, she closed her eyes, letting exhaustion and sleep take over. Little did she know that nightmares would soon wreck her sleep, replaying images she now had come to dread.