My feet pound down a narrow back road, my legs are on fire from running. My chest is rising and falling frantically, each breath causing a sharp pain to shoot through my core and into my skull, heightening my furious headache. A half-empty backpack is slung over my shoulder, bumping against my back with every step I take. A heavier object within the bag bruises me with every blow.
The sky is grey and dreary, peaking out forlornly from between the tall buildings on either side of the street. Any light that remains in the sky fizzles into oblivion before reaching the ground. I near a corner, checking my location on my phone. Night's nearly arrived, and as I think about the prospect of getting some rest, my legs stop their fast heartbeat on the road in anticipation. I try to run again, but my body won't let me, forcing me to get the rest I was thinking of getting later. I slump onto a half-wall made of faded-red bricks that stands crammed between the black road and a foot-wide patch of dead grass that must be someone's lawn.
I think back on the day's events, trying to deduce what motive I had for running like this, but the more I think about it, the more the memories fade into nothing. I sit on the brick half-wall, left in solitary confusion by my distressed memory.
I remember everything from today up to the point when Fred and I were searching the ground floor of my house. I know Fred was asking me about a comic book, but what happened next? Faint, blurry memories are my only informative about the last couple of hours of my life. Even the memories I have don't seem real as if they were a bedtime story someone made up to induce me into sleep.
I don't know why I'm here, in the middle of nowhere, but I know that there must be a reason, and if I felt the need to leave before, would it really be a good idea to go back? I still feel like there's a disaster pending, a monster chasing me, a stranger watching, ready to attack. Even thinking about going back sets an intense terror in my heart, a need to run far, far away.
After a few moments of silent rest, I force myself to get back to walking. No one could have followed me this far. I have no need to run. Despite this, my heart is racing, and my legs are shaking. I'm still lost in the rush I felt before. I try to walk normally. I watch every step, measuring each one out, trying to judge the distance each leg takes me.
At a more moderate pace, I turn onto a busy street. It has fancy, stone sidewalks, and old-fashioned storefronts. I pass numerous little shops and cafes which I ignore. Each one smells of delicious food or looks so mysterious I'm tempted to go in out of curiosity. But if I go into a shop, there will be other people who will clearly see me, making them witnesses. I don't know if I'm being tracked, but I'm not taking my chances.
Some of the shops are closing up with the arrival of night, but some are still open, neon signs in their little windows, casting colorful light on the sidewalk. Each beam of light feels like a strobe light as if it's pinning me in place, finding me. I try to avoid walking in the light, but that's hard when you're in San Fransokyo since, even at night, there's light everywhere.
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The Science of Words--Sabotage
FanfictionIvrian thinks she knows everything, and is too scared to tell anyone. Davin knows a lot, but doesn't have anyone to tell. Tadashi wishes someone would tell him what is going on. A sequel to The Science of Words.
