It didn't matter what 'symbol' you had. You were dead.
It didn't help that the blood that was forming in his mouth was now dripping onto my cheeks.
The man who raised me, protected me from them, was now dead.
It was strange how my heart hurt, but no tears fell.
I was filled with undeniable rage, but I had to run.
Run, stay free, run.
My footsteps echoed in my head.
Did their footsteps also echo in their heads as they chased me?
I felt a hand on my back.
I was caught.
