The hairs on the back of your neck stood up while goose bumps spread across your spine.

Footsteps. Footsteps seemed to be everywhere, followed by screams and gunshots.

Your eyes wandered vigilantly through the crowd. More and more became restless and began to tread water. Whispers grew louder.

"What's going on?", a woman asked in a trembling voice.

She clawed her fingers into the arm of a man who wanted to step forward angrily. Glances were exchanged.

As a precaution, you pushed your father further into the shadows.

"Stay quiet.", you whispered to him and slid to the side to catch a glimpse of the door between the bodies.

The woman in front of the cage was obviously upset. Her fingers closed tightly around the gun she was pointing at the door.

All at once the shots stopped. Silence fell. You held your breath.

Twenty-one.

Twenty-two.

Twenty-three.

Footsteps sounded again, fast but so quiet that you thought you were imagining it.

Nobody reacted.

"Hey!", a man tried to grab the woman.

She pulled up the gun.

"Back off!", she hissed.

He stared at the barrel of the gun for a moment. Something seemed to change in him. Then, without batting an eyelid, he grabbed the gun with both hands to pull it.

Surprised by the force, the woman stumbled, but pulled in the opposite direction and tried to break free.

Others seized the opportunity. Hands reached out for the woman, tugging at her hair and clothes.

Suddenly a shot ripped through the scuffle. Blood sprayed across the floor, the smell of iron and gunpowder mingled in the air.

People screamed and scattered as the body fell to the ground. The floorboards turned a deep red colour while exposed flesh revealed everything to the world.

Your breath hitched at the sight. This wasn't your first corpse, of course not. Not in this world. But it never got any better. And you didn't want to get used to it either.

Even though it wasn't as bad as your first time, a little nausea scratched at the back of your throat. Swallowing hard, you fought it down and closed your eyes. But the silence lasted a long time.

There it was again. Footsteps. Quick and quiet. As if someone was very skilful at sneaking, at remaining undetected and then striking quickly and deadly.

Whoever was making their way towards that door knew what they were doing.

"Pa.", you glanced over your shoulder to make sure his attention was on you. "Be ready."

His eyes found yours. For a moment he just looked at you, then nodded with a certain sadness.

You were a child of this horrible world and he was sorry for it. He would have preferred never to have seen you like that. But he was glad that you had been born with a will to survive.

Hope for the best, expect the worst. A sad motto, but one that kept his child alive.

Getting ready, he got to his feet behind you. Slowly you made your way between the people to the other wall, closer to the door but also further away from the woman.

She had her back turned to the door. Right into the field of footsteps that crept closer and closer to you.

Was she deaf?

Or did you just have good ears?

Whatever it was, she couldn't stop it. The door burst open with such force that it knocked her off her feet.

With a gasp, she fell, the rifle slipping from her fingers and skittering across the floor right in front of the feet of those she had attacked earlier.

This time they hesitated to resist. You, however, had other plans.

In front of the bars, someone had pounced on the oppressor. The two wrestled with each other, panting and snorting to see who would gain the upper hand.

The stranger, a young woman who could hardly be older than you, was overwhelmed. A scream escaped her as she dug her fingernails into the flesh of her attacker.

Without hesitation, you leapt forward and grabbed the weapon.

The two women writhed. It was a tough fight, tenacious. Suddenly the unknown woman tore up one hand and tried to squeeze out the eye of the other with her thumb.

She sat astride her, pressing a baseball bat to her throat. At that moment, you noticed green ink on pale white skin.

For a second you thought it was a plant growing over the stranger's arm. But it was just a tattoo. Somehow it suited her strangely well. As if it was literally a part of her and not just art on skin.

Gritting her teeth, she fought against the approaching death. Her gasp dragged you back to reality. You raised the gun, aimed as best your tired arms would allow.

And fired a shot.

Blood splattered across the floor again. Flesh shattered like porcelain. The attacker gasped one last time. Then she collapsed lifelessly over the woman.

Exhausted, she gasped, her face contorted in disgust and exertion. Her legs moved across the floor but she remained lying there for a moment.

It was quiet. Only her heavy breathing revealed that you had not hit her.

Holding your breath, you straightened up on your knees, your fingers still tightly closed around the rifle. All around you, people had distanced themselves.

They stared. Then chaos broke loose.

"Hey, you!", one of the men shouted to the woman. "The key! Give us the keys!"

As if snapped out of her trance, she pushed the body away from her. Two swift movements and she had the keys, throwing them to him through the bars.

"I'm looking for a woman called Abby.", her voice was hoarse, tired but also essential.

She demanded an answer.

The lock made a soft click and the door swung open. Without a second thought, the others ran to the gun cabinet and grabbed anything that might be of use.

You retreated back into the cell to help your father up. You were still clutching the gun as if it could save you.

"Where's Abby?", the voice of the stranger urged from behind your ears.

Grunting, your father got to his feet. The others ignored her. Even when her patience came to an end and she raised her gun.

"They took her to the beach a few days ago.", you said casually as you headed for the exit with your father and some supplies. "Maybe you're lucky and she's still alive."

Your gazes crossed. Her eyes were green.