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Marilyn ran until her hair loosened from her bun, her gait was so quick that it choked her breath. She wandered without a specific place in mind, her eyes wandered over the road before her, her heart thrummed to the sound of the man that followed her.

A black shadow attempting to catch up to her seemed to have slowed, but Marilyn didn't look back once, her determined steps echoed through the street.

Her skirt tugged against her, restricting her movement. People watched on as the hysteric woman ran past them without any sign of danger. Many were slightly irked, many questioned as she ran past them. Marilyn felt the darkness wallow from the growing fear of the unknown man.

Soon she ran into a bustling crowd of the marketplace, the only ones who matched her hurry were the kids who played in the streets. She pushed into some people, unable to utter a simple "Sorry", occupied by her own hurry.

Marilyn rushed down an alley, her empty hands clutching onto the door of the small gift shop where James once sat unbothered. He stood up immediately, the sight of Marilyn in such a hurry made his heart skip a beat, a dark shadow cast on his face. She shouldn't have been running in her state.

"They are here! James, they are here!" She shouted, her voice shredding under the pressure of her heaving breath.

James walked away from his desk, his eyes set on her, observing with a mix of horror and confusion. "Who?" he questioned, his heart threatening to jump out of his throat.

"Arnold! He's found us!" she shouted, her scream breaking as she began crying, tears streaming down her face as her voice echoed in the small shop.

"How do you know?" He asked almost skeptically, hoping perhaps she had been mistaken again.

"I saw him, James! I saw Arnold's brother! I saw Clarence!" She shouted, her hands clenched tightly, her words feeling menial. A beast clawed against her heart.

James felt the little energy he had mustered that morning leave his body as he voiced the first thought that came to his mind. He held Marilyn tightly by her arm before she could fall to the ground, gently nudging her and whispering meekly into her ear, "Where are the children?" His voice was so soft and hopeless, it brought even more tears to Marilyn's eyes.

"I asked Mrs. Colt to take them, and I took the other way. I couldn't let him see them," she said in a whisper that matched his. James felt her recoil under his embrace. "I shouldn't have done that! They will go after the children!" Marilyn cried, her hands landing blow after blow on her head as James struggled to keep her in place.

"Marilyn!" he scolded, but she continued. "They will take away my Jenny and my Ember!" she shouted.

"Nothing will happen to them! Where is Clarence?" James asked Marilyn, hoping her self-torture would come to an end.

"He was around the corner on the last street when I last saw him," she said in another low whisper.

"Mary, my dear," James murmured, his voice a soothing caress in the dimly lit room, as if trying to shield her from the storm brewing outside the shop.

"You need to hide," he whispered urgently, his words a delicate plea. He guided her trembling form towards the small closet nestled behind the sturdy oak desk, its mahogany frame a contrast against the fear that loomed beyond their fragile haven.

As Marilyn stepped into the narrow confines of the closet, James struggled to support her, his hands trembling with the weight of their shared fear. With gentle determination, he helped her maintain her posture. Through the small window of the closet, their gazes met in a fleeting exchange. Marilyn cast a harrowing glance at the man she adored, her eyes a reflection of the turmoil that ravaged her soul.

With a silent nod, James closed the closet door, sealing Marilyn within its protective embrace. James was not sure if it was another nightmare, yet each time he felt scared, overlooking her fears, that perhaps she was going to be right one day and his dismissal would be catastrophic.

Yet as he closed the door and stood guard at his desk, the door flung open. A man with his loosened collars and folded sleeves walked in, his cat-like eyes scanned the entirety of the shop in an almost robotic manner before fixating on James who was quietly watching, hoping that he wasn't thrust into Marilyn's nightmares.

"How may I help you?" he offered the man, but the man didn't reply, his worker hands ran across the glass, eyeing a collection of vases.

"Is there something I can help you with?" James questioned again thinking thaat perhaps he wasnt heard the first time, but as the silence rang in his ears, he noticed that the man was heaving, his chest rising and falling in an unusual manner. A very small slicker of sweat passed from behind his ear and into his beard. James felt the lump in his throat grow. He simply hoped the day would pass like any other, the sun sets into the sky so he can spend another sleepless night driving drunk strangers home.

James began tapping the surface of the counter, the tension in his posture evident. His shoulders tensed defensively as the man got closer to the counter, his eyes set on the items below the counter. "Where is she?" he asked finally, his throaty voice reverberating in James's ears.

"Sorry?" James replied, a certain monotony in his tone that seemed like a dead giveaway. The man before him exuded arrogance, a sneer etched upon his lips as his gaze roamed disdainfully, his eyes wandering once more around the shop where he keenly observed the items on the shelves. The man then walked over to the shelf where cups, covered in dust, sat. He gently picked up the blue and pink china, so careful and delicate, his eyes softened at the scene almost as though he was truly intrigued by the piece.

In a sudden blur of motion, the tranquility of the shop shattered as the man lunged forward. It took James quite some time to react as the man charged him with the china in hand, smashing it into his skull. James felt tiny shards enter his temple, but by the time he could swing a punch, he had been shoved onto another shelf. His eyes were punched in, and his hand had been twisted. James felt his head spin at the assault yet he couldn't bring himself to fall in defeat as the man approached the room. Through a haze of agony, James summoned his resolve, his vision blurred yet his determination unyielding. With a primal instinct, he launched himself forward.

But as he stumbled into the adjacent room, Marilyn towered over the man, a metallic vase in her hand, breaking the remainder of his skull into smaller pieces, the sound of shattering bone echoing through the room. Her hands stained with blood and her hold on the vase began to weaken as she realized what had just transpired.