The room was silent, lit only by the dim light from a flickering lamp. A young girl stood in the center, tending to several survivors lying weakly in shabby beds. Her face was anxious, her hands trembling as she adjusted the blanket of one patient. When Abraham entered, their eyes met.
Quickly, Abraham placed his finger to his lips, signaling the girl to remain silent. His other hand raised a pistol, pointing it at her. "Don't tell anyone, or I'll shoot you," he whispered, his voice low and sharp, though he knew in his heart he had no intention of harming her.
The girl swallowed hard, her face pale, eyes wide with fear. Trembling, she nodded slowly, not daring to look away.
"Good," Abraham muttered, his tone softening slightly. But the gun remained raised. He scanned the room and saw an empty bed in the corner. Without wasting time, he stepped over, wrapped himself in a tattered cloth, and pretended to be one of the sick patients.
Soon after, the door slammed open. The survivors who had been chasing him entered, their breaths still heavy. Dimitri led the way, his eyes scanning the room with fury.
"Where are you hiding that bastard, Rachel?" Dimitri hissed, his voice threatening.
Rachel tried to stay calm, despite her trembling body. "What do you mean, Dimitri?" she asked with a quivering voice, pretending not to know.
"Stop playing games with me!" Dimitri stepped closer, his face just inches from Rachel's. "If I find him here, your head will roll."
Dimitri raised his hand, signaling his men to search every bed. One by one, they checked the survivors, pulling back their blankets.
Rachel tried to distract Dimitri. "This is wasting time, Dimitri. They're sick, they need rest!" she shouted in frustration.
Dimitri stared at her coldly, stepping closer again. "You're just a stray dog picked up out of the boss's mercy," he spat, his voice full of contempt. "Don't ever think you're part of the Guild."
He stroked Rachel's white hair with a cruel grin. "But... I can help you join the Guild," he said with a sly tone.
Rachel stepped back and, without hesitation, slapped Dimitri hard. The sound of the slap echoed through the room.
Dimitri froze for a moment, but only for an instant. His face flushed with anger, and he retaliated by slapping Rachel so hard she fell to the floor. "Ungrateful slut!" he screamed, holding his reddening cheek.
Meanwhile, the survivors were starting to approach Abraham's bed. The pistol in Abraham's hand was ready, his finger on the trigger, prepared to shoot at any moment.
But suddenly, Rachel screamed loudly, full of anger. "DIMITRI!" Her shout stopped everyone in their tracks. "Get out of here now, or I'll end my life!" She pressed a knife to her own throat, her hand shaking but firm. Blood trickled slowly from a small wound on her neck.
Dimitri was stunned, staring at Rachel in disbelief. "You're not really going to do it," he said, though his voice was now uncertain. "Go ahead. I don't care."
On the other side, one of the survivors began lifting the cloth over Abraham's bed.
Rachel didn't have much time left. She knew that if she didn't act now, Abraham would be captured.
With a strong resolve, her hands shook as she dug the knife deeper, causing blood to flow more rapidly.
"STOP!" Dimitri finally shouted, his voice booming throughout the room. He stepped forward, grabbing Rachel's hand to stop her before the knife could wound her further.
"We'll search for him elsewhere," Dimitri growled in frustration. "Get out now!"
The survivors obeyed, leaving the room one by one. The last one to check Abraham's bed released the cloth and left, completely unaware.
Abraham sighed in relief, lowering his pistol. Now, only he and Rachel remained in the room, silent, with the faint smell of blood lingering in the air.
Abraham slowly rose from the bed, ensuring the situation was completely safe. The sound of the survivors' footsteps grew fainter, leaving behind an oppressive silence. He exhaled deeply, wiping the sweat from his forehead, and then looked at Rachel, sitting on the floor.
The girl was trembling, her hands shaking violently, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her breath was shallow, as if she had just narrowly escaped death.
"Thank you," Abraham said softly, his voice low but sincere.
Rachel looked up, her eyes red and wet. She wiped her tears with a trembling hand, then stared at Abraham with an empty gaze. "Go," she said weakly, her voice almost a whisper.
Abraham stood still. He looked at Rachel with a heavy feeling of guilt in his chest. This girl had just risked her life to save him, and now she seemed so fragile, as if the weight of the world was crushing her.
"I will make this right," Abraham said firmly, though there was worry in his voice. His face showed resolve, but also deep sympathy.
Rachel only lowered her gaze, remaining silent.
Abraham knew he couldn't stay much longer. He walked toward the window, carefully opening it to make sure no one saw. With swift movements, he jumped out and began running.
Inside the room, only Rachel remained. She sat on the floor, her body shaking. Slowly, her hand reached for the small pendant hanging around her neck. The pendant looked old and worn, but Rachel held it tightly, as if it was the only thing connecting her to hope.
The room fell silent again, except for the faint sobs of Rachel.
Abraham ran, leaving the hospital, slipping through the dark shadows of the night. His breath was ragged, each step driven by desperation to return to where his daughter was waiting. The medicine and UV lamp he carried in his backpack were now his last hope.
But his mind was restless. Rachel's face haunted him—her eyes full of fear and courage, so reminiscent of his late wife. Guilt crept in between his ragged breaths.
After running for a long time, Abraham finally stopped at the edge of a ruined road, the remains of buildings standing as silent witnesses to his escape. He took off his backpack, opened it to find a water bottle. His hands trembled as he opened the cap, drinking quickly.
As he sat down to catch his breath, his thoughts kept spinning. "Who are these people?" he muttered to himself. "What did Dimitri mean by 'Guild'? Are they a group controlling this area?"
Suddenly, a heavy voice broke the silence. "You mean the R.E.D Guild?"
Abraham quickly looked up, his eyes widening. In the distance stood a tall figure, his face obscured by the moonlight. Behind him, several others appeared, all holding rifles, their barrels coldly aimed at Abraham.
The atmosphere instantly became tense. The cold night air felt suffocating, and in an instant, Abraham's survival instincts kicked in again. He slowly rose, keeping his eyes on the man, his hand reaching for the pistol tucked at his side.
"Who are you?" Abraham asked, his voice trembling but firm.
The man stepped forward, a thin smile on his face. "Oh, Abraham?" He chuckled softly. "You wound my little heart. How could you forget your old friend?"