You’re hiding in a closet, trembling with fear. Footsteps approach out in the hall following a reprieve from all the gunfire. Someone jiggles the knob, turns it. “Are you hurt? Can you walk?” A soothing female voice asks, but you can’t quite see her with her flashlight shining in your eyes. Shakily, you take her extended hand and she helps you up. She lowers the flashlight and looks over your injuries. A couple bad scrapes, but that’s it. “It’s okay. You’re safe now. Name’s Jill.”