two story beginnings, but not story

theses are two different stories that i started, but got stuck on. i would love some suggestions as to what i should do next. i hate abandoning stories, but i'm really stuck. please help!

The blood stained the walls of the bedroom like bright wallpaper, the splatters tricking the eye and giving the mind the illusion of flowers. She lay sprawled out on the bed, barely clothed, yet somehow she looked innocent. She was young, in her early twenties. Her dark hair was nearly waste length, and smooth as satin. Her face was beautiful, with high, pronounced cheekbones, a narrow almost fragile looking nose, and a soft mouth that seemed more likely to laugh then frown. Her eyes, though now closed, were bright and eager to see the world, though perhaps not this world. The blood on the walls was not hers, but her attacker’s. His body lay slumped against the far wall, his empty eyes still trained on her. When she woke, these eyes seemed to bore into her, calling her attention and sending chills throughout her body. She got up and quickly left the room, only to return for her purse and jacket. She would gladly have left them, but she didn’t have the money to buy replacements, and they weren’t too bloodied. She left the apartment and walked quickly in the direction of her home.

The hall is brightly lit, but comfortably. Welcoming, bright, harmless. It’s filled with benches, all four walls lined. In the center is a long table filled with foods and drinks to keep the people here content. And content they are, not realizing that they are going to die, and soon. Ignorance is truly bliss, I guess.
I look around at all the families, and the sight nearly brings me to tears. So many of the families have children with them, many of them still very young. I continue to look around, but more from instinct than anything. I feel someone watching me and even though it doesn’t really matter since I’ll be dead anyway, I can’t keep my eyes from seeking them out. When I meet the eyes trained on me, I jump in surprise. An old woman is staring at me and when our eyes meet, I feel a surge of energy. She lifts and hand and waves for me to come over but I look around as if expecting her to mean someone else. Then I ignore her completely. I don’t want to talk to this old woman; even from here, I can tell that she knows about the hall. I won’t admit to knowing anything, just in case keeping my mouth shut gives me the chance to escape.
Instead of focusing on the scene in front of me and how helpless I feel, I close my eyes and try to focus on something else, anything but my current situation. I think of my life. I think of every moment I can remember starting with this morning and going back as far as my memories stretch. I’m caught up in memories of my girlfriend when I realize what’s going on and my eyes snap open. The hall is heavily laced with magic, but not any kind anyone outside will ever face. This magic is the kind you can only feel just before you die. It’s the magic that’s been reported when someone survives a near death experience. That’s the thing about almost dying. Most of the time, the almost isn’t true. Most of the time, you do actually die. But right before your soul crosses over, you feel this magic and your soul emits just enough energy to start your heart again. After that your body takes over and suddenly your conscience and scared out of your mind about what you felt.
The pull of the magic is irresistible and I start to think about my little sister. She was always calling me the ‘greatest older sister and thief the world will ever meet’. But obviously, that isn’t true, because if I were the world’s greatest thief I wouldn’t be here. Again, I shake myself free of my thoughts. Thinking about loved ones is dangerous, because it gives the hall things to torture you with while you wait to die. Instead of the people I care about, it think about how I ended up here. I was on a job, trying to steal an ancient scroll for the guy who hired me.