Della had spent a great deal of her New Years Eve 'celebrations' alone, with the rare exception of her father's presence, so sitting alone in her apartment with a mug of lukewarm coffee wasn't an entirely new experience. Except, of course, for the fact that instead of watching the ball drop on the news, Della was staring at something horrifying.<br/><br/>Grainy video of rioters beating each other bloody intermingled with patients dying in hospital beds. Della took a mechanical sip of her coffee. It was cold.<br/><br/>Her mother was in the hospital. If the sickness spreading throughout the city didn't kill her, the flu she'd contracted might. And if not that, then the cancer would kill her anyway. It was all just a matter of time, Della knew, for all of them.<br/><br/>And still, there was an animalistic clawing inside of her, survival instinct beginning to kick in. She didn't even have anything to live for, really, but she<i>wanted</i>to live.<br/><br/>Her coffee fell to the floor, forgotten, as she rose from the couch and hurried to her bedroom to pack essentials. If the military was starting barricades, something worse was sure to follow. Della hadn't a clue where she might go, only the drive to get out of New York.<br/><br/><br/>((Sorry for late posting, myself; I just started a new job, and training/scheduling is kind of sporadic right now.))