Titles? Who Needs Titles?

I couldn't think of an actual title for this thing but I really, really wanted to post it.
______________________________________________________________________

Shay ran.

She sprinted through the crowded streets, ducking and weaving in and out of people.  The cracked sidewalks caused her to stumble once in a while, but, somehow, she managed to keep going.  Her black t-shirt stuck to her body with sweat and rain.  Her breath came in sharp bursts.  Every step caused pain to shoot through her side.  Every second spent regaining her balance meant another second her pursuers had to use to catch up.  She had to keep going.

The throbbing mass of people around Shay became too thick to navigate, with people running in every which way, trying to get out of the rain.  She fought her way to the edge of the crowd, bursting into an alleyway.  It was small, so small that Shay’s shoulders brushed the bricks on either side of her as she hurried through.  Shouts echoed far behind her.

She wasn’t even running for something important.  It was all so ridiculous.  How had she even gotten here in the first place?  The more Shay thought about it, the more things started to click in her mind.  Her sprint slowed to a jog, then to a walk.  The black clad girl frowned.  She didn’t know why she was running.  She didn’t even know what she was running from.

The alley came to an end.  Shay stepped out of her narrow corridor of brick to find herself surrounded by least a dozen men, all pointing guns at her.  For some reason, though, she wasn’t afraid.  The thought of death didn’t send the mind-numbing fear through her heart that it did to most people.  Instead, she was irritated.  Why would anyone try to kill her?  What had she done to these men anyway?  The answer was nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

The expressionless men aimed their guns at Shay’s head.  She glared in defiance.  They squeezed the triggers in unison.

Loud bangs and flashes of light were the last things Shay remembered when she woke up in her bed, drenched in cold sweat.  Which was good.

Because what she could have remembered instead was much, much worse.