It did not take long to overpower her. She fell, it seemed, as quickly as feasible, and when she did the room was silent. The room was large, the walls were orange and the floors were wood. From the ceiling hung lanterns that were connected to one-another by rope, and the rope was intertwined with the support beams. Ends of rope occasionally hung loose from the rafters, frayed and torn. The air was sultry.

It reeked of blood. I had only just realized what happened. As of now, I was laying on the dead body of a girl, with a knife lodged in her stomach. My hand was crimson. It takes a moment to register the severity of what happened; and even then, I dare not linger too long on the memory. I realize how little I know of this girl. How completely absurd it is, that I should be given power over this girl’s life—to judge whether she should live, or die—when I’ve no means of comprehending the havoc, or lack thereof, her absence would ensue. I can’t even say her name, yet I can proudly usurp authority over life and death, to pronounce her dead for my own selfish gain— for my own preservation.

Her body felt like a rock for how cold it was when I stood up. She was pale and lifeless. Her hair is red and it falls in clumps over her face. I gaze at her blue eyes that stare glassily at the ceiling. She was weak, but she could not have suffered long. I wonder who she is; what her name is, what she liked, who her parents were. I wonder what madness drove her here, and if she would not rather have stayed somewhere safe. Perhaps she was smart— perhaps she was a scientist— perhaps she would be one, if she were alive. But her wits were no match for my blade; what good is it now, that she was smart?

I take the knife from her belly. There is a cloth in my pocket, I take it and I clean my knife with it. I cannot stay and muse over hypotheticals; if she found me, that means her team isn’t far behind. Surely they’ve got a sniper, or a scout. It’s only a matter of time before this place gets discovered. I put my knife into it’s sheath and leave.