• The conscience world struck Lara hard. Her eyes split open, as if controlled by their own brains; as if they were alive. She couldn't move, but she didn't want to either. So she laid there, unmoving. She breathed in slowly, held the breath, and listened to it echo in the empty theater as she exhaled. At least she thought it was empty. Nothing seemed to matter at that moment, except remembering how she had wound up bleeding on the stage. She had no recollection of the strike itself, but something had definitely blasted through her head. It didn't hurt if she didn't move or think about it. She knew that death was the goal the striker had been trying to achieve. The only sound besides her thoughts and slow breathing, was music. A soft melody floated through the theater, over the chairs and around the stage. If there was any room in her head for her common sense, she would have realized someone had to be playing the piano. But her desperate thoughts clogged her mind, and pain stopped her from moving her head to look around. She knew she had to get out of the evil place.
    It took her a while to build the strength, but soon she began to move the arm that was draped over her stomach. It hurt like hell itself, but it was heaven compared to the pain to come. Once she had placed the hand underneath her, she dropped her wait on it. A cry of shear agony escaped her lips, but she continued to pry herself up into the sitting position. All room for her thoughts was replaced by the fact that her mind was focused on the red dots she was seeing, her pulse (which she could feel bursting out of her head), and her loud, jagged breathing. She couldn't tell if she was screaming or if she was stone silent. With a final push, and a scream that woke Satan himself, Lara was on her feet, focused only on staying in that position.
    You couldn't really say she walked toward the edge of the stage, but fell toward it. With each step she whimpered in pain and dropped forward, only to stable herself and repeated the action. In a matter of painful seconds, Lara stood at the edge of the stage. The drop was only about four feet, but in her current state, the impact could make her pass out again, and by then she had noticed the piano melody so she only wanted to get out of the theater faster.
    "Wh-who's the-ere?" she choked out, wiping her sweaty forehead. Her hand came back red, a color that laughed at her and told her she couldn't escape her death. She whimpered again and felt burning hot tears run down her cheeks.
    It only took a second for the border between pain and anger to shatter... because Lara remembered who had swung the bat. But baseball was only one of Jack's many talents. He was also a marvelous pianist.
    "Dammit Jack! What the-" she choked out some harsh liquid, "h-hell have I ever done to you?! I'm not always gonna be there for you to... torture. Why can't you make sure I'm dead next time, you b*****d!" she screamed. Then she saw it. The bloody bat. Why he hadn't taken it with him to the piano she didn't know, but it couldn't be a trap because he'd originally meant to kill her; not injure her.
    Then everything else came back. Sh had been on a date with jack, who walked onto the stage when the show was over with her giggling and tagging along. Seconds later she was on the ground, breathing in her own blood. Then she remembered where the piano was. She grabbed the bat and ran dizzily, but yet almost silently through the rows of seats. Soon she was a few feet behind him, staring at the back of his head. She held her breath and took another step towards him, raising the bat slowly.
    "Revenge," she coughed and swung the bat down on him.
    He wasn't dead, she would never kill someone. He was just going to be pasted out for a long time. She gave a satisfied smile, but then cried in agony. With that she stumbled out of the theater and passed out on the sidewalk. Five minutes later she was found and taken to the hospital.