The fog was thick tonight. It was a nice addition to the thick sense of dread crawling down my spine. Seeping into my bones, grasping my stomach, clouding my vision. I vaguely heard someone calling after me, but I didn't listen. I wouldn't let it slip this time, this time I would fix things. I would fix things for them. One way or another, this nightmare I've inherited will be over. The blood pounding in my ears helped me to ignore whoever it was who called me, it was deafening. All I saw was tinted in a very angry red. Every inch of me shook with anger, my hands balled into fists. I grit my teeth, and I ran. I didn't think about what I was doing.
But when do I ever?
All I knew was I had to keep moving forward . Had to pedal my feet, had to catch up. He wasn't going to get away. Not after all he'd done. He wouldn't get away this time. Not again, never again.
Vaguely, I was aware of my feet leaving the sidewalk, and hitting the asphalt of the street. Which of course, meant leaving it's relative safety as well. That thought didn't run through my head. I realized too late how stupid I was.
I heard a scream. Someone called my name I think. And when I say called, I really mean screeched. As I turned my head, I was met with a sight that made me catch my breath. My blood ran cold, my eyes widened, my heart stop, my brain fold in on itself. Worst of all, it made me freeze. It took me a moment to realize : I wasn't moving. I was standing, brain dead, in the middle of a Manhattan street at 10:00 PM. I had to move, and fast.
But I didn't. I couldn't. I was locked up, and I didn't have the key.
In that moment, I was aware of everything. The blinding twin lights, the frightened and shocked faces, someone howling after me, someone just screaming. It was hard to tell which was which, because suprisingly, a person's scream sounded remarkably like the sound of tires frantically skidding to a halt . I was aware of everything, even the light breeze lifting my hair from the back of my neck, the sound of footsteps on the sidewalk, everything. Most of all, I was aware of the fact that I wasn't moving a muscle as I stared down the Toyota that was barreling in my direction.
I even saw the driver. A guy not that much older than me, early twenties maybe. Clenched teeth, white knuckles, tight muscles, wild eyes, bracing for impact. On the outside, he probably looked more scared than I did. Even though I was afraid my eyes were open so wide they'd fall out of my head. Somehow I figured that was the least of my worries .
I was expecting pain, and I got it. Excruciating, engulfing, incapacitating pain. I wasn't aware of what exactly was going on, all I was aware of was pain. I couldn't form a comprehensive thought. I couldn't draw a breath. Still, I was practically frozen, I couldn't move. All I knew was pain. All I was was pain. Pain pain pain.
There was one last whomping pain , in my head, I guess. It was nearly impossible to distinguish one pain from another. Practically every inch of me was screaming.
Blackness descended too late. The fog swallowed me up, and I was gone.
