Survived?

The street was quiet and empty, save for the unknown figure dragging herself through the night. Her movements were slow and labored, each step punctuated by a grimace of pain. She was determined, though, and she kept moving until she reached the brightly-lit pharmacy. As she approached the pharmacy, the bright lights illuminated the scene, making her appearance all the more surreal. The pharmacy's headline read "Gavin Pharmaceuticals," and she smiled at the name before making her way inside.

The interior of the pharmacy was stark white and sterile, with bright fluorescent lights overhead that made everything seem almost too bright. The woman's eyes took a moment to adjust to the brightness, and she had to blink a few times before she could see clearly. The air was filled with the smell of antiseptic and disinfectant, which mixed with the woman's own scent of sweat and blood.

She walked slowly down the aisles, her torn gown trailing behind her and leaving smears of blood on the clean white tile. Her left leg was bleeding profusely, and she left a trail of blood wherever she went. Her hands were also bleeding, and drops of blood fell to the floor as she clutched at her gown, trying to hold it together.

The owner of the pharmacy watched her with a mix of shock and trepidation from behind the counter. He was a bulky man with glasses, and he didn't want to know what had happened to this woman. He just wanted her out of his store before she caused any more damage.

But the woman didn't seem to notice the man's discomfort. She just kept moving, her eyes scanning the shelves for something specific. She finally found what she was looking for - a first aid kit - and grabbed it off the shelf with a shaky hand.

As she turned to leave, the man finally spoke up. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.

The woman didn't answer. She just looked at him and let out a grim smile that would have seemed weird coming from anyone else, but on her face, it was almost beautiful. The man couldn't help but smile back, almost against his will as she took the first aid box. Although he wanted to stop her as it was plain theft, he felt that he might have saved a life by letting her go in the process.

The woman left the pharmacy and started walking again, clutching the first aid kit to her chest. She made her way down the street, her torn gown billowing behind her in the breeze. She was a striking figure, with her long black hair lapping around her forehead and her hourglass figure visible even through the torn fabric of her gown.

The street was quiet, with only the occasional car passing by. The woman walked on, her steps slow and deliberate, until she finally reached her destination - a run-down apartment building three blocks away from Gavin Pharmaceuticals.

She climbed the stairs to the apartment, her left leg still bleeding profusely. She unlocked the door and stepped inside, shutting the door behind her with a resounding thud.

The interior of the apartment was dark and musty, with peeling wallpaper and threadbare carpets.The woman made her way to the kitchen, turning on the light and setting down the first aid kit on the sink. She seemed to do it in such a way that she had already been familiar with the apartment before now.

She slowly began to clean and bandage her wounds, wincing at the pain but determined to take care of herself. Whilst in the midst of doing so, she collapsed onto the floor, exhausted from the effort. Knowing she had she wasn't done and had to stop the bleeding as quickly as possible, she immediately stood up from the ground and continued applying bandages until the bleeding on both her wounds seemed to stop.

After this, she lets out an undoubted sigh of relief and turns on the tap. Washing her blood-stained hands and using it to wash off what's left of the make-up on her face, she headed out of the kitchen and into the bedroom, hoping to find the whereabouts of its' wardrobe. Finding it, she immediately begins looking for new clothing until a knock on the door could be heard.

She could hear a certain conversation going on between two men. Not being able to make out what they were saying, she immediately leaves the clothes she had carefully selected from the wardrobe on the bed, heads out of the Bedroom and back into the kitchen, where the opened First-aid kit lay. Still on alert, she hears a bang on the front door of the apartment. Still looking at the direction of which the noise came, she Muttered "Fucking hell."

The unknown men were dressed in all black, with black balaclavas covering their faces. Each of them was armed with a FAMAS assault rifle, and they moved with precision and calmness. Their movements were fluid, almost like a choreographed dance. They were professionals, and they knew what they were doing.

As they made their way into the apartment, the first bang on the door reverberated through the small space, causing her to tense up. She quickly armed herself with the syringe, her hands shaking not from fear but from the pain of her fresh wounds. She knew she had to act quickly, and so she searched for painkillers.

The second bang on the door sounded, and she found the aspirin bottle, pouring most of its contents into her hands and ingesting them all at once. The pain was still there, but she was determined to push it aside.

The third and final bang on the door was enough to shatter it, and the unknown men burst into the apartment. They fanned out, each taking a different direction. One headed towards the bathroom, another towards the bedroom, and the last towards the kitchen.

The apartment was small, with white walls and a grey concrete floor. The furniture was minimal, with a small couch and a coffee table in the living room, a small wooden dining table with two chairs in the kitchen area, and a queen-sized bed with a single dresser in the bedroom. The bathroom was small, with a shower stall, toilet, and sink. The overall appearance was neat and tidy, with everything in its place. The only sign of distress was the open first-aid kit on the kitchen counter, and the syringe in her hand.

The one heading towards the bathroom moved with caution, his rifle held at the ready. He checked behind the shower curtain, then moved to the toilet and checked behind it. He then moved to the sink and checked under it, finding nothing.

The one heading towards the bedroom checked under the bed, then moved to the dresser, opening each drawer and checking its contents. He found nothing of interest and moved on to the closet, checking the clothes and the shelves. Still, he found nothing.

The last one headed towards the kitchen, checking behind the refrigerator and the stove. He then moved to the cabinets, opening each one and checking its contents. He found nothing of interest and moved on to the pantry, checking the shelves and the items stored there.The kitchen was dimly lit, casting eerie shadows on the countertops and cabinets. The third man, still searching for the unknown woman, noticed a white object in the corner of the room. It was the first aid kit, opened and used. He approached it slowly, suspicion gnawing at the back of his mind. As he leaned in to examine the contents, a sharp object suddenly protruded from his mouth. He instinctively gagged and grasped at the object, trying to pull it out. It was a syringe, and it was being held by the woman they had been pursuing.

She emerged from the darkness, her eyes fixed on the dying man. She knew that a single stab of the syringe wouldn't be enough to kill him, so she quickly jammed it in again and again, the sharp needle piercing flesh and bone with inhuman force. The man's screams echoed throughout the apartment, his body writhing in agony. The woman showed no mercy, stabbing him over and over until he was still.

The other two men, alerted by the commotion, rushed into the kitchen. They were met with the grisly sight of their comrade's corpse on the floor, blood pooling around his lifeless form. They looked around frantically, knowing that someone was here, but not sure where. They searched the entire kitchen, their eyes darting from corner to corner. Suddenly, the man closest to the exit stopped moving, a sharp pain in his stomach causing him to double over. He saw a flash of black and felt a knife pierce through his body from the back. It was the woman again. She didn't stop there, but continued stabbing him, the knife sinking deeper and deeper with each brutal thrust.

The remaining man watched in horror as his colleagues fell one by one, unable to comprehend what was happening. He knew that he was next, but he refused to go down without a fight. He raised his FAMAS rifle, the cold metal gleaming in the dim light. He scanned the room, his finger poised on the trigger. Suddenly, he heard a noise behind him. He spun around, his rifle trained on the dark corner of the kitchen. But there was nothing there.

He turned back to face the door, his heart racing with fear. Suddenly, he heard it. The sound of the apartment door opening and closing. He knew that the woman had escaped. He rushed to the entrance of the apartment and peered out into the night. There she was, limping her way to safety. He raised his rifle and opened fire, the sharp report of the gunshots echoing through the night.

The woman stumbled and fell, blood seeping from the fresh wound in her leg. She gasped for air, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew that she had to keep moving, or else she would die here. She pushed herself up and limped down the street, her eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of pursuit. But there was nothing. The only sound was the pounding of her own heartbeat, the only light the dim glow of the streetlamps.

She dragged her leg through the dimly lit streets, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. after a while, she could hear the sound of footsteps pounding behind her, growing ever closer. Gunshots rang out, echoing off the buildings around her. Her left leg was useless, hanging limply as she dragged it behind her.

As she ran, she soon found herself back at the Pharmacy she had visited earlier. The bulky man behind the counter looked up, his eyes widening in shock as he saw the state she was in. He had no idea what was going on, but the sound of gunfire in the distance made him fear for his life. He quickly ducked behind his counter and prayed that he would not be caught in the crossfire.

The woman didn't even seem to notice him, as she stumbled toward the stand of drugs. She collapsed behind it, her heart pounding in her chest as she tried to catch her breath. She could hear the man coming closer and closer, the sound of his footsteps growing louder with each passing moment.

She gripped a pair of surgical scissors tightly in her hand, her only means of defense. She waited, her heart racing as she watched the blood pooling around her injured leg. She knew she was losing too much blood, but she had to keep going. She had to survive.

The man entered the pharmacy, his eyes scanning the area for any sign of his quarry. He followed the trail of blood, his gun at the ready. Persistent As he was, he followed the trail until it was split into two parts. He followed the one leading to his right for some time, with his gun ready to fire. on looking, he realizes she wasn't there. He had followed the trail of blood that she left initially during her time in the pharmacy before, as she tried finding the first aid kit. Disappointed, he had to retrace his steps. Approaching the spot where the woman had been hiding, he raised his weapon, ready to fire.

But she was no longer there.

The man fired his gun, the sound of bullets tearing through the air. Drugs and shelves were sent flying as he shot blindly around the pharmacy, hoping to hit his target. But the woman had already fled, leaving nothing behind but a trail of blood and destruction.

The man paused, looking around to see if he had hit anything. But there was no movement, no sign of life. He slowly began to approach the area where the woman had been hiding, his guard down.

And then, in an instant, everything changed.

The woman appeared from nowhere, her hand darting out with lightning speed to jab the surgical scissors into the man's neck. He stumbled backwards, his eyes wide with shock as he fell to the ground.

She looked down at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of fear and triumph. She had done it. She had taken down the man who had been chasing her. But at what cost?

She felt her own wounds throbbing, her blood continuing to seep out onto the floor. She knew she needed help, but there was no one she could turn to. She glanced around the pharmacy, searching for anything that might help her.

And then she saw it: the man's gun. She limped over to it, her fingers closing around the handle. It felt heavy in her hands, but she knew she had to take it. It might be the only thing that could save her life.

With the gun in hand, she stumbled out of the pharmacy and into the darkness. She didn't want to treat the wound at that moment because she knew she had to keep moving. She had to find help. And maybe, just maybe, she would find a way out of this nightmare.