In the word of humans, everyone are driven by greed that causes people to kill each other. When people started to kill each other, it never ends. Everyone then wants to seek revenge for their loved ones. Izel, a girl in her teens strives to survive in such a world where people kill each other. It was tuesday night, everyone had slept but Izel was still scrolling her phone through social media. Suddenly, she saw a video. It was no ordinary video, she saw a man killing someone. At first, she thought it was a prank but sooner she realized it was not.

As the realization dawned on Izel that the video was real, her heart began to race. She tried to steady her breathing, but the shock made it difficult. She could see the cold, calculated look in the killer's eyes, and the helpless victim's futile attempts to escape. The image was seared into her mind, making it impossible to look away.

She quickly checked the timestamp and location tag on the video. It had been uploaded just a few minutes ago and was marked as being nearby. Panic set in. What if the killer was still out there, close to her home?

Izel felt a surge of fear but also a strange resolve. She knew she had to do something. She couldn't just be a passive observer. She decided to call the police, but first, she downloaded the video to ensure she had a copy in case it got removed. She then dialed 911, her hands trembling as she waited for someone to pick up.

"911, what's your emergency?" came the calm, professional voice on the other end.

Izel took a deep breath, trying to steady her voice. "I just saw a video online of someone being killed. It looked like it happened nearby. You need to see this."

The dispatcher asked her to describe the video and provide any details she could remember. Izel did her best to convey everything she had seen, including the location tag and the timestamp. The dispatcher assured her that they would look into it immediately and asked her to stay safe.

Hanging up the phone, Izel felt a mix of relief and unease. She knew the authorities were now involved, but a part of her felt that wasn't enough. She couldn't shake the feeling that she had to do more, that somehow, she was connected to this unfolding tragedy.

Unable to sleep, Izel kept her phone close, monitoring social media for any updates. News about the video spread quickly, with more people reacting and sharing their fears. In the midst of the chaos, a direct message popped up on her screen. It was from an anonymous account.

"You're brave for reporting it. Be careful. Trust no one."

The message sent a shiver down her spine. Who was this person? How did they know she had reported the video? Izel felt exposed and vulnerable, but also more determined. There was no turning back now.

"Who could it be? Who the hell is stalking me?" She looked out her window, but there was no one in sight. Frightened, she pulled the curtains shut. Suddenly, a message popped up on her phone: "Searching for me? You will meet me soon, don't worry." When she tried to reply, the number and the message history vanished.

She was shocked and unsure of what to do, so she went to bed as if nothing had happened. The next morning, when she woke up and pulled off the covers, everything was a mess. It looked as if she had woken up in the middle of a war; everything was damaged and many people were dead. Before she could comprehend what was happening, there were gunshots at her window. Soon it shattered.

She ducked instinctively, shards of glass scattering around her as she crawled towards the safety of her bedroom closet. Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat resonating with the chaos outside. Through the haze of confusion and fear, she tried to make sense of what had happened. The city had been peaceful just yesterday, and now it resembled a battlefield.

Peering through a crack in the closet door, she saw shadows moving past the shattered window. The sound of heavy boots and muffled voices filled the air. She held her breath, praying they wouldn't find her. Her mind raced back to the ominous message on her phone. Was this all connected? Who was behind this?

As the minutes ticked by, the noise outside gradually faded. Gathering her courage, she emerged from the closet and cautiously approached the window. The street below was littered with debris and lifeless bodies, a stark contrast to the serene morning she had woken up to just moments ago. She spotted a small group of heavily armed men moving systematically from building to building.

She needed answers. Her phone, now a lifeline, was her first thought. She searched for it frantically, but it was nowhere to be found. "Think," she told herself, "think." Her laptop lay on her desk, undisturbed amidst the chaos. She quickly powered it on, hoping to find some clue or a way to contact someone for help.

The screen flickered to life, but before she could access anything, an alert popped up: "System compromised. Remote access initiated." Panic surged through her as she realized her last means of communication was being hijacked. Desperate, she yanked the power cord out, but it was too late. A new message flashed on the screen, accompanied by a distorted voice from the laptop's speakers.

"Running won't help. We are closer than you think."

The screen went black, leaving her in eerie silence. She glanced around, her eyes landing on a small, forgotten storage box under her bed. She pulled it out, her hands trembling. Inside, she found an old flip phone she had kept for emergencies. She powered it on, hoping the outdated device might still work. To her relief, it did.

She dialed the only number she could think of – her best friend, Sarah. The phone rang twice before Sarah picked up.

"Hello? Who is this?"

"Sarah, it's me," she whispered urgently. "I need your help. Something terrible is happening."

"Who is this?" Sarah repeated, her voice tinged with confusion and fear.

"It's me, Izel. Please, you have to believe me. I'm in danger. There's –"

The line went dead. Izel stared at the phone, her heart sinking. She tried calling again, but there was no response. The sense of isolation was overwhelming. Just as she was about to give in to despair, she heard a faint tapping sound coming from the direction of her kitchen.

Cautiously, she approached the sound. As she entered the kitchen, she saw a figure hunched over the table, scribbling something on a piece of paper. She gasped, and the figure turned to face her. It was an old man, his face lined with worry and exhaustion.

"Who are you?" Izel demanded, her voice shaky.

The man raised a hand to calm her. "My name is Thomas," he said quietly. "I've been trying to reach you. There's no time to explain everything, but you must trust me. We need to get out of here, now."

Izel hesitated, her mind racing with questions. But the urgency in Thomas's eyes convinced her. She nodded, and together they made their way to the back door. As they stepped outside, the cold morning air hit her face, bringing a sobering clarity to the surreal events unfolding around her.

Thomas led her through a series of narrow alleyways, avoiding the main streets. "Who are those people?" Izel asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Mercenaries," Thomas replied grimly. "Hired by someone very powerful. They're looking for something – or someone."

They reached a small, hidden garage where an old car was parked. Thomas opened the door and gestured for her to get in. As they drove away, Izel looked back at her once peaceful neighborhood, now unrecognizable. She knew her life would never be the same again.