The Mafia's Angels

Prologue

I'm running, faster than I ever have before, my legs pumping underneath me. The cacophony of bullets all around me, deafening, piercing, agonising, push me harder, further. Further away from the chaos. Further away from my family. My head is down, lowered, as I sprint just like I once did as a young boy during track practice, terrified to lock eyes with the monster behind me. It rises up, all around me, long tentacles of mayhem surrounding me, suffocating me. I never stop, never give in to my body screaming at me to slow down. Light flashes around me, highlighting the different scenes of the bedlam, like characters upon a cruel stage. I feel as if I am running as slow as you run in a dream, my arms and legs working in unison to barely propel me along quick enough. My vision is blurry, and I swipe a hand across my eyes, making it become splattered with thick blood. Still, I don't stop running. My lungs are screeching at me now, I feel as if I can hear them. I run through the smoke, through the fire, hoping to reach the light at the end of the tunnel, but I never seem to, even though I have been running for what seems like hours now. I dive towards the darkness, not looking back.