She

All night, the repressive nature of the room she was barricaded in outlined the threat she faced outdoors; the suffocating sense of dread and horror at what had begun earlier that evening ricocheted against the confines of her skull, until she felt that tearing her own brain from its stem was the only way to make such a thing stop. She looked towards her son, cuddling his blood splattered blanket and sleeping soundly, wrapped in the safety and unaware of childhood innocence. She had to leave soon, she had to take him with her, to face the horror of outside and attempt to find safety and sanction amongst her family. There was nothing to be gained from staying stationary, she could hear them outside, scratching their long nails and snapping their teeth as they crowded around the door, drawn to the sound of her heart pumping its viscous, salty blood around her body. To leave would be through the rear door of the room, away from them but also into the unknown. In a split second she made her decision; it was now or never. Scooping up the few supplies she had gathered and stuffing them into her bag, she gently shook her son awake, all the while the screeching and wails of outside tearing at her reserve. Groggy at first, he clambered onto her back, entwining his small hands through her hair for comfort. She climbed to her feet, her son secured but always behind, and turned to face the back door. With quiet courage she righted her physical and emotional stance, wiped some of the congealed grime and blood from her face, and temporarily strode from Death.