Long Road Ahead

Chapter 2: Back To the Past

December 26th
Tuesday 11:47 AM

Venice's eyes flutter open to the dim light of dawn filtering through the dense canopy above the cave. His body protests every movement, aching from the strain of the previous night. For a moment, he lies still, his mind struggling to shake off the remnants of restless sleep. The taste of smoke lingers in his mouth, a bitter reminder of the flames that nearly consumed him.

He forces himself to sit up, biting back a groan as the pain in his leg flares up again. The cold stone at his back does little to soothe the throbbing ache that has settled deep into his bones. Venice glances around the small cave, the realization sinking in that this isn't some bad dream. He's out, but far from safe.

"Gotta keep moving," he mutters to himself, rubbing a hand over his face. The forest outside is still and quiet, but Venice knows better than to trust the silence. The guards will be out there, hunting him down like an animal. He's not going to wait around to be caught.

With a grunt of effort, Venice pushes himself to his feet, leaning heavily on the cave wall for support. His leg wobbles under his weight, but he grits his teeth and takes a step forward. He's made it this far; he can't afford to slow down now.

________

*Blue*

My heart's pounding so hard it feels like it's going to burst out of my chest. I don't dare look back—I can still hear the cops shouting behind me, their footsteps too close, too fast. They're hunting me, and I know I've only got seconds to disappear.

I duck into a narrow alley behind the hotel, my breath coming in ragged gasps. I yank my hoodie over my head, pulling it low to hide my face. The fabric is damp with sweat, sticking to my skin, but I ignore it. I've got to keep moving.

I glance around, making sure no one's watching, and take off running again. I've been on the run before, but this time it feels different—more desperate. The city's streets are a blur as I weave through them, sticking to the shadows, staying out of sight. Every turn I make, I expect to see flashing lights, to hear the sound of sirens closing in.

But I can't stop. Not now. I've got to put as much distance between me and that hotel as possible. They'll be tearing it apart looking for me, and I can't afford to be anywhere near it when they figure out I'm gone.

I keep running, pushing through the exhaustion and the fear, until the hotel is just a memory behind me. I don't know where I'm going, but I know I can't stay here. I've got to find somewhere safe—somewhere no one will think to look for me.

For now, all I can do is keep running.

________

January 3rd
Venice

Venice was starving. Two days had passed without a single bite to eat, and the hunger was unbearable. He found himself in a back alley, crouched beside a trash can, his fingers sifting through the mess inside, searching for anything remotely edible. The stench of rotting food and waste was overwhelming, but he didn't care. He couldn't afford to care.

As he dug deeper into the trash, his hand brushed against something small and crinkly. He pulled it out—a half-empty Oreo package, discarded and forgotten. Without hesitation, Venice tore it open and shoved a handful of cookies into his mouth. They were stale, the chocolate nearly tasteless, but to him, it was a feast.

He continued to scavenge, one hand shoving cookies into his mouth while the other kept searching the depths of the trash can. He was too focused on his task to notice the figure approaching from behind.