Chapter Thirty-Seven.

The water swirled in the tank of the toilet, echoing a rushing sound through the system. Patricia walked out of the stall doors and went straight to the sink.

Opening the tap, she placed her palms beneath. But her solitude only lasted a few seconds before she heard the sound of a gunshot ripple through the air above. Her heart stomped suddenly as she heard the screams that bestowed a moment later.

And she swiped the tap to close, sauntering out the bathroom doors to see the immense chaos. The music was well subsided beneath the thuds from a hundred feet and Patricia turned around in utter quagmire. “What—What is this?” She stuttered, barely audible as she tried to reach for a waiter who’d let go of the tray in his hands, spilling a few glasses of red cocktail to the ground.

Patricia realized if one person were to slip here, there would occur a stampede and a majority of guests would have their skins punctured by the shards of glass that laid capriciously on the floor—she needed to le