“Wake up, Laura!” my acquaintance shouted frantically. I awoke with a shake and several pats to my face. My eyelids begrudgingly opened as if there were a pile of bricks weighing them down. The trace of a faint figure was present beside me. Silver, metallic cases with my money spilling from it were scattered around the concrete floor everywhere. The man who had shot me immediately fled the scene. Before he climbed out the window, he turned and gave me a threatening stare. His grey eyes engraved into my memory.
     A pang of pain sent my hand soaring to clutch my head. A rusty, metallic odor crept up my nose. I felt the damp, sticky substance slide down my neck. I looked at my hand, and it was stained with a dark shade of maroon. A girl was mouthing a few words to me, as her eyes widened. I groaned as my head pounded from the bullet lodged into my skull. The last thing I remembered seeing was blackness overcoming me and the anxious face of my acquaintance. 
                                           …
     Beep! Beep! The heart monitor sounded every few moments before the next. I laid motionless on the rigid bed, glancing around the dimly lit hospital room. Black and brown mold dotted the ceiling in clusters. Windows covered with grime were opened, the faded pink curtains swaying in the frigid air. The calm moonlight struggled to penetrate the darkness in thread-like rays. Sharp shadows roamed around the room.
Sarah. I thought. A memory played in my head as if it occurred yesterday. My sister’s longing, hazel eyes were brimming with tears as she begged me to abandon the secret government mission.
     “You’ll just end up dead!” she screamed. I remember shaking my head and slowly releasing my arm from her tight grasp. She was right. I should’ve stopped when I knew that if I followed them, I’d end up dead like my brother. My heart ached. An IV bag was attached to a tube in my left arm. The bed stand held a white vase with dried, crusty flowers and a pitcher of water that remained half-empty. The wooden door then creaked open.
     Light from the hallway illuminated the room. Quiet footsteps entered the unit. Although my eyes were closed, I knew the figure was standing right in front of me as if daring me to see who he was. Slowly, I squinted into the darkness. I saw cold grey eyes, and a twisted smirk stretched across a man’s face. A white doctor’s gown clothed him and a name tag that read Anthony Preston. Slowly, he began lifting a syringe. The tube glinted in the moonlight. Pushing the plunger top, serum squirted out in small amounts into the air. Realization suddenly came over me. Flashbacks of his golden hair, grey eyes, and perfect smile flooded back. It was Anthony. Goodbye, Sarah. I thought, knowing that this was finally going to be the end. I deserve it. The last word he mouthed was “sleep.” It’s all over now.