I need to get out. He's out of the room for the first time in hours and I can't let this chance slip.I swing myself repeatedly against the thin, damp, and bloody walls of the shack,using what's left of my hips to give me some kind of extra power. A hole is finally formed, so i squeeze myself through,tumble out of the shack and land on the damp grass with a thud. It's much darker than when i arrived. I start to crawl across the yard, the sky smoky, and the moon looking down at me, disappointed. But I can't bring myself to care through the searing pain that courses through what's left of me every time I haul my legless body up and drag it across the grass to the gravel. I know I won't be able to escape, truly, I know he'll catch up to me and finish me off- or worse: keep me alive.
But it's always worth a shot
YOU ARE READING
Those Who Carried On
Horrorstarted off as a creative writing assignment thing but 100 words is WAY too little to make anything good 4 me personally so i will b expandin here
