She didn't have the strength to fight. It was clear she was risking her life she dared to throw a punch.
So when the door creaked open and boots stepped inside, slow and deliberate she didn't move.
Not when the light from a flashlight slid across the far wall, not even when it landed briefly on her legs behind the pallets.
"There she is..." someone said.
Another pair of steps followed. Then a shadow shifted near the edge of her vision, and two men crouched down beside her hiding spot.
One wore a jacket with half a sleeve torn off and dark stains along the collar. The other had a scar down his cheek and eyes too bright to be calm.
"Still alive huh" the first muttered. "Barely."
Scarface reached forward. "Let's get her up."
She let them. Her body was too weak to resist anyway, and even if she could, now wasn't the time. So she slumped forward when they dragged her out, limbs like wet cloth, head heavy against her chest.
