If They Only Knew

Chapter 3 - My Hero

"Hey baby" yells the deep, slurred voice behind me obvious Irish accent. 

I keep walking straight ignoring the yell and my trembling hands.  

A spark of hope ignites maybe its Niall. 

But the tone in this mans deep voice is nothing like I've ever heard. It's sinister and wrathful. 

"Do I know you? Come over here" he demands, I ignore him and his demanding request. 

Hesitant as I reach a black door and urgently try to turn the handle.  

Thus showing my desperation to escape this scene.  

The large black door won't budge,  

I start to shake and panic.  

My eyes darting around trying to manoeuvre an escape in my mind.  

Inspecting ahead trying to find a place to hide I notice the alleys end is longer then I expected. 

I don't know where I am. 

I don't know this place.

The flapping rhythm of his footsteps increasing behind me.  

There is something sinister behind that croaked chuckle. 

My adrenaline peeks as my internal panic over rides my system.  

It's either fight or flight. 

My knees lock in place as I come to a halt, I'm frozen and I can't speak. 

Cold breeze whips at my exposed neck as I turn to face the threat. 

He's tall and bulky covered in all black like a vicious raven.  

His legs completing longs stalking strides towards me with an eerie determination.  

There's no way in hell I can fight this guy.  

A sharp intake of air caught in throat causing me to hiss at the awful realization that my only other option is to run. 

Run and never look back. 

My desperate legs kick forward with long strides. Pushing against my sore calfs to stride. The increasing slap of shoes beating behind me. 

He's chasing after me.  

I lunge forward vulnerable and desperate. My black heels stomping on the hard pavement.  

My little legs pushing away with all I have trying to escape, to disappear out of sight.

My exhausted sore legs slouch and sag.  

I can't hold out for much longer.  

I'm stuck sprinting down this seemingly never ending alley.  

I have to be brave but my short strides can't compare, his twice of mine.  

I can't hold on for longer I sob. 

My thighs ache with exhaustion. 

Whimpering as I stager forward. 

Shaken I start to slow my pace reluctantly.  

My legs won't bulged any further. I slump forward with my last trembling steps. My knees weak and numb unable to hold out under my weight. 

Dragging my tired feet desperate to scramble another step. 

"Where do you think you're going?" He snickers a piercing twinge crawls down my back with cold dead fingers.

My legs wobble, I collapse onto the cold hard pavement. The Barack fabric in my right knee tearing open in the process.