Standing at the cashier is an exhausted worker with the void resting in his eyes. His fit body leans against the counter as he takes my order.

"So that's a ten-piece chicken nugget meal with small fries?" he repeats, lifting his head to meet my gaze.

I nod and hand him my card.

He takes it and scans it without another word. He hands it back to me and offers a weak smile. "Thank you," he says before handing me the receipt. "Your number is 613."

"Thank you," I emphasized before stepping out of line. After all, he is the one doing the work, I am the one supposed to be thanking him. I wait patiently beside the pick-up window and watch as the workers create my meal in the back of the restaurant.

I sneak a peek at my phone and confirm I have fifteen minutes before the McDonald's lobby closes. The drive-through is open twenty-four hours but the lobby closes at one in the morning. I feel a pang of sympathy for those who have to stay late. Personally, I don't think I would be able to survive working in the fast-food industry so I respect those who do.

In the back of my mind, my mother's voice whispers her warnings and predictions about my life if I don't listen to her advice. "You are making a mistake. You should become a lawyer like your father. You would do well as a lawyer. You don't want to end up like those wash-outs, do you? Why don't you ever listen to me?"

Because I am sick of you trying to control my life, I reply internally.

I moved three days away from home to escape their hovering. It wasn't enough to shut them out entirely since cell phones still exist, but this feels like the lesser of the two evils.

"Number six thirteen!"

I snap out of my tired daze and move towards the pick-up counter. I take my bag and find its contents still hot from the fryer. I bow my head to the young man out of gratitude before leaving the restaurant.

I push open the door with my hip and step out onto the sidewalk. I gulp down a blast of midnight air and feel it freeze inside of my lungs. I find it difficult to breathe when facing the wind so I turn my head away. The wind sweeps across the McDonald's parking lot and carries tiny knives of snow in its brisk movement. The black sky sparkles with snowflakes but the beauty of winter never comes without its bitter cold edge.

The only warmth I feel emanates from the brown paper bag in my arms.

The parking lot is layered with hardened ice and tire-tracked snow patches. It glistens underneath the nearby streetlights with its revealing danger. I am careful as I walk across the street, mindful not to slip.

The hazy yellow glow of the McDonald's sign shines with an ominous atmosphere from behind the veil of snow. The unnatural neon light reflects off the icy ground and flickers occasionally, threatening to vanish under the cover of night.

Thankfully, I reached my car without any incident. I reach into my jacket pocket to search for my keys. I pull them out by the chain but they slip through my fingers and clatter onto the ground. I sigh sharply and kneel down to pick them up. My eyes slowly adjust to the darkness in the shadow of the car and I find myself staring at a flash of red in the fresh layer of snow.

My hand hesitates in the air.

What is that?

I quickly grab my keys and stand up from the ground, my eyes lingering on the scarlet stain. I frown to myself as an unsettling feeling crawls through my stomach. I shake my head at it, convincing myself that it is anything but blood.

And I won't stick around to find out.

I unlock my car and set my bag on the passenger's seat. I begin to enter my car when a hand snatches the crook of my arm, nearly yanking my shoulder from its socket.

A high-pitched scream escapes my mouth as I am dragged from the seat of my car. My hands clench into tight fists and I am already swinging my elbow back, poised to attack. With violent intentions, I slam my fist against their chest without a second thought knowing that if this were a normal, safe person they would not have grabbed me.

Hesitation can kill.

"Stop, shut up!" the attacker shouts, grabbing hold of my shoulders.

In an instant, the man gains control over me and slams my body against the side of my car. A strangled gasp escapes my throat only to force out a scream from the core of my being. My arms fly to my sides and I brace myself against the car. I reer my foot back and aim my kicking at his balls but my movements are too frantic to land a solid hit.

"SHUT UP!" the man shouts as his voice becomes guttural with rage.

I scream back at him knowing better to fall silent in the hands of a kidnapper, or a rapist. I attempt to attack once again but he knocks my arm out of the way. He shoves me against the car again with a burst of strength I can't counterattack.

In my blind fit of defense, my foot slips from underneath me and my body falls to the side. I fall onto the ground with a hard thud but I don't waste a single moment. I am already scrambling to my feet but the man was quicker. He kicks my side, pain radiates from my ribs like a shockwave, before slamming his foot into my back. My hands slip against the ice from the force of his foot.

My body falls flat on the ground. Vulnerable. Exposed to danger.

"You little bitch!" the man forces through his teeth, "Shut up or I'll kill you!"

Trembling from adrenaline, I brace my hands against the ice and ignore the bite of cold spreading through my bare palms. I ready myself to leap to my feet the moment the man is distracted, swearing to escape if it's the last thing I do.

I won't die like this, I tell myself despite my mounting fears.

A voice carrying through the wind sends my heart racing with hope.

"This is the second witness. I don't make deals like this, I should have known... such disorganization... it disgusts me."

The hope that grew within my chest dies instantly.

A deal? Did I somehow stumble across a drug deal? I guess that makes sense... It's late at night, behind a McDonald's, shrouded in snow...

But why did he resort to this type of violence for some drugs? It's a large city. There are plenty of drug deals. I didn't even see them through the snow, why are they so paranoid? Maybe it's a special type of drug? Or they're crazy.

Through the corner of my eye, I catch only a glimpse of the second man involved in this shady deal. He stands amidst the swirling snow, shadowed by the yellow light of the McDonald's sign. Behind him sits a large white van with the back doors still open but it's too dark to see its contents.

My attacker's body bristles and whirls around. "Wait! Please, just wait! I swear it will be worth it, you've seen him. We take our very business seriously, just wait." His head lowers and I find myself making direct contact with him. The murderous intent in his hooded eyes turns my blood cold. "I'll take care of this."

"I am growing tired of waiting..." the man sighs, "but if you must..."

My stomach twists with panic.

Before I could react, the attacker's fist slammed against the top of my head. A strangled gasp wrenches from my throat as the brunt pain radiates through my skull. My eyesight trembles as I struggle to focus on the ground before me. It's as if my eyes were bouncing back and forth, unable to remain still.

A blurry foot flies towards my face and my vision falls dark.

Another blunt hit from his boot hits my jaw. Then another on my head, his knuckles connecting with the hardness of my skull.

All ability to focus on the world around me vanishes as he continues to beat me. My strength to move is drained despite my internal pleading to fight back. It's as if my body stopped responding to me.

I try to push myself up from the ground but he shoves me down again. My head lands on the ground and I feel another shockwave of pain move through my head. I cry out but feel no tears appear in my eyes.

I am going to die here if I don't manage to stop him!

"Stop." I gasped, wrapping my arms around my aching head. My body is shaking with terror and wasted adrenaline. "Stop—, stop, please stop," I beg out of fear of dying at this very moment.

Mercilessly, he kicks me once again and his foot lands on my crossed wrists. I moan in pain as my wrists ache in protest from the kick.

I can't die. I don't want to die tonight! This can't be the end.

I make an effort to scream but he kicks my side, again and again, shouting at me in a blind rage.

I cry out and curl into a tighter ball in a feeble way to try to protect myself. The taste of blood and snow floods my open mouth. Dry sobs convulsed through me as hysterics sent electric horror through my mind.

Everything hurts. I can't breathe. I can't focus on anything, it's all just sliding away from me...

Barely clinging to consciousness, I hear the sound of another scream followed by the sound of chains falling on the ground.

The man stops attacking me and withdraws from my body. His boots scrape against the ice, backing away, and curses under his breath. There is a note of fear in his voice but I don't understand what he's saying, mostly because they don't make sense.

"He's escaped." Who escaped?

My body remains still, too terrified to move. If I play dead, maybe I can convince him to leave. I force myself to stop breathing until my head is dizzy from lack of oxygen. Snow falls onto my frozen skin and tickles the parts that haven't gone numb from the pain or from the cold.

BANG!

My body jerks sharply at the sound of the gunshot. My eyes are wide open as I stare ahead, unable to stop myself from shaking. Tears slowly fill my eyes and finally spill over, streaking my flushed cheeks.

I can't move. I can't move or he'll attack me again. It's too dangerous to do anything except play dead.

"STOP HIM! He's getting away!" the attacker shouts and runs in the direction of the other man. "Don't shoot him! Stop!"

Another gunshot fires off and I hear somebody scream in pain.

I force my body to stay frozen. I imagine myself already dead, floating away from reality, and my soul fading away in the wind. I stare ahead, unblinking. My body is still curled into a protective ball but it didn't do much to help me.

A shadow of a man passes over me.

I press my lips together to suppress a rising sob, unable to control my fear anymore. I am shaking too much. He's going to kill me.

I am going to be murdered for being at the wrong place at the wrong time.

I fight to hold my breath, praying that my "playing dead" strategy is convincing enough to avoid another fight. I know I lost this battle. Defeat tastes of bitter blood and salty tears.

"Oh no..." an unfamiliar voice whispers.

My gaze lifts to the shadowy figure and I realize this isn't the attacker or the other man. The new person stands over me, gripping the side of his stomach with both hands. I watch in horror as blood drips between his fingers and soaks the snow beneath his bare feet.

Finally, I allow myself to breathe freely and watch as my breath turns into fog. My heart is still skipping beats. My head throbs with intense pain. My body slackens as my muscles give out from held tension. It's a miracle I survived such a violent attack, or that I am still conscious after so many blows to my head.

The man lowers himself to the ground and kneels beside me. His breaths come in short gasps as he grimaces sharply. He reaches out with a bloody hand and brushes his fingers over my arm, "Are you alive?" he asks shakily.

I stare at him with wide eyes, still stunned by the prior events.

Where is that man? What happened? Who is this guy?

I inhale sharply only to sob out my next breath. I shake my head weakly at him and begin to cry harder. The man's fist continues to make ghostly imprints on my body, bruising me, hurting me. I can still hear his ragged breathing, his horrible voice. Flashing images of the attack echo through my mind and remind me of the current danger.

He was going to kill me, where did he go? He's going to come back and finish me off any second now. We are still in danger!

The man makes a soft noise of pain and hunched over, trying to place pressure on his wound. "I can't stay here," he whispers, his voice soft as feathers. "Tell me that you're okay and I—, I can leave when I know you're okay. You're alive enough to wait for the police, they should be here soon."

I stare at the man, trapped in eternal terror.

I don't think I will ever be okay again.

He hisses quietly and grips his side again. "Please just tell me—" he inhales sharply and lifts his head to the sky, gritting his teeth, "You're going to be okay..."

The sound of sirens echoed through the midnight air. A blast of icy wind sends snow spiraling around us before settling at our feet. I force out a strangled sound and fight against my paralysis to shake my head again. My body feels made of stone. My focus continues to slide away from him, unable to remain trained on a single detail.

The mind is a slippery thing.

The man starts to lean forward and I feel the warmth of his breath against my tear-stained cheek. He smells faintly of fresh earth and gasoline. Suddenly, his body is pressing against mine, leaning on me...

Hot blood oozes through his fingers and stains my clothes, leaving wet spots on my skin underneath. He curls up against me and rests his head on my shoulder, fighting to keep his eyes open. His breaths are uneven; he sounds like he's going to hyperventilate like I am.

"They are gone now," he adds quietly. His lips brush over the curve of my jaw, briefly distracting me from the danger of our situation. He suppresses a choked sob and rests his head against my exposed neck. "They're gone, I escaped the cage and chased them away. We're safe now."

"You... shot them?"

He shakes his head weakly, still holding onto me. "He shot me," he corrects, "but I grabbed his gun so—," he exhales sharply and more tears fall onto my numb skin, "—then they ran away. The van is gone, they are long gone now."

The sound of wailing sirens grows louder and appears to be headed for us. The police are coming... we just have to hold on for a little while longer...

"You saved me..." I whisper in shock, still paralyzed. "You were the one who escaped..." My eyes roll back into my head for a moment before struggling to refocus. My stomach twists with a powerful wave of nausea. I swallow hard to force back any rising bile.

My blurry gaze falls on the snow surrounding our bodies.

Created by the blood of his wounds, a bloodstained snow angel spreads its hot, sticky wings beneath us. Enveloping us in its embrace, crystallizing in the frigid air, and shattering under the weight of our limp bodies.

A/N: My playlists decided to be upbeat and cheery so I ended up writing this chapter to the sounds of Dynamite, haha. I guess it was good in the end because I felt traumatized when I finished writing it. Watch a fun video to cheer yourself up! I promise things will get better for our lovely Eden.