Fear

She remembered, that she had been sitting quietly in the balcony, looking out at the town. Small, cosy, and warm. That was how she had felt.

She dislodged the errant thought, as shadowed cloaks made their way towards her. She sprinted to the front of the statue, stationed in front of the large spiralling staircase.

With a pause, her determination not faltering for a second, she leapt out again, as she took steps backwards, finally using the gun in her hands.

Later, she wouldn't be able to remember, the sheer number of them she had shot, how many times, it felt as though, someone was resurrecting five more for every one she put down.

A haze was falling.

Vision blurring.

As she brought destruction down on another two, the hall remained empty, but she knew, from the sounds she could hear of robotic arms, that the time she had was very little. She grabbed onto the nearest ledge and hauled her weight over the barrier, running to one of the guard rooms as she remained crouched. A brief moment of panic caught her as she heard someone's movement from the level above, coming closer to her as she moved further. A door yanked open, and she found herself inside a small room, the only place where she could hide, of all places, was under the bed.

It was too small for her to fit under, but she thought,

Maybe that's enough to put someone off of checking.

It was strange, and normally she wouldn't have considered it, but desperation was pounding through her veins.

A few moments later, her head and shoulders were what remained in sight and just before they disappeared too, the door slammed open.

Later, she would remember, the gun that lightly touched her forehead, as she dropped her head back and closed her eyes in mock-surrender.

--

I looked at the woman who had just been caught trying to hide under a bed.

Her wrists were bound. Her head hung low, a permanent scowl attached to her face.

I should feel safe, to an extent. But I felt as though, I'd never see her again.

I don't know who she is,
why would I see her again?
Better yet,
why do I care.

I placed my hand on her shoulder.

--

The blank, bleak, colour of pure white, faded away as I was shown a single image.

Of the woman's future.

She was on the ground, figures I recognised as criminals in a time before mine, surrounding her. One of them knelt on the ground, blocking my vision of the same person I had just tried to tell,

I feel as though you are innocent.

The oncoming nausea, fear, was worsened, as I saw the figure holding a screwdriver, above what I presumed to be the woman's knee, from where I was standing.

I fell to the ground,

As the figure moved the screwdriver down,

And twisted.

--

With a scream stuck in her throat,
she watched the woman being hauled away,
by the same cloaked figures,
that caused shivers of a frightful kind,
to wander down any one's mind.