"Stop!" I here the voice of a boy behind me, but if I stop It could be over. My legs and arms are pumping hard as I find a dead end. The boys steps are aproching, and I have to make a move. The alley. Its the only way. What if there's another dead end? Where will I go? There's no time so I run.
The alley is dark and cold. It spells of rats, moss, and lost souls. In early October there is water streaming like hands down the pathway. Several lines of clothing is lined from window to window. Trash cans are lining the wall but at second glace my chances of hiding in there are gone.
"I said stop!" He yells again. I was right. A dead end.
There's one thing you should know about me; even if I lose, I don't go down without a fight.
I hop into the nearest trash bin. I peak over the lid and see the boy just enter the alley way. Not wanting to sit, I quat down and hold in air. Its early October and the inside of the bin is moist, giving off a moldy smell. The boys footsteps are apporching slowly and then adrupty stops.
"Ha!" He yells throwing off the lid.
I let out a small scream of fear and jump out into a shield of icey air. I start to run out of the alley. Once he realizes what I'm doing and he didn't do he bolts after me. I make it a few feet before he catches my wrist and jerks me backwards.
"Tag!" He yells. After a small victory dance he turns to me and notices the arm I'm holding.
"Sorry about your arm, I've been running for a while."
"Twenty minutes?"
He scoffs but doesn't answer.
After a few minutes of hands on our knees he breaks the silence.
"I gotta get back."
I already know the answer but I ask anyway. "Who's left?"
He smiles, "Games not over. Looks like I almost won."
"Who?"
"Just one. Miles." I frown at Miles's name.
"Tipicail. I can't beat him. Not if I'm the last tagger."
"I know. I know." He puts his arms up as if he were surrendering. "I didn't want to tag you, but...Hey at least you don't have to tag the guy. Plus our watches haven't buzzed so you know he hasn't won yet"
"Okay go ahead. I got this."
"Yeah. Okay. Good luck." He says sarcastically. He jogs back and I'm left alone at in the alley.
The game is very unique; first there is one tagger, and the rest are victims . once you are tagged you become the tagger and the previous tagger goes back to base. Every victims' job is to get to the beaker before getting tagged. In situations like the one I'm in, where there is one victim and one tagger, you job is to get to the beaker before the other person. No tagging. A watch tells us when someone has won yet. So far I've still got a chance.
I've only thought about winning a few times, like everyone else. No one has ever won except Miles Keen. He is the best. Never have I been so close to winning before. Miles usually gets to the beaker before the game even starts. Its odd that he's not here by now. Its possible that he got into a fight longer than he thought. It happens all the time. The fights I mean.
That's when I see him. I'm a block away from the building and Miles is just on the other side. I start to book it towards the building. When he sees me he runs toward the building too. As I start up the stairs Miles crawls up the walls. Reaching the top floor, he kicks in a window, shattering glass on me.
Miles is bigger up close. He is bleeding in the arm and the face. The fight must've really happened. His arms are muscular and he is tall as houses. Every rumor I've heard about Miles wasn't a rumor. I know I could never beat him physically.
I Only have a glance before I run up the last flight of stairs. Of course I get caught. Miles grabs me from behind putting my arms at my side. We are taught this move to ensure that the other person can't fight back. While being dragged back, I fall hard on a stair. Miles flips me around; hovering over me. His expesion is confused.
"New girl?" His voice is as scary as he is. But is expression goes as fast as it came. His lips crul up into a deadly smile. He leans in close to whisper even though we're alone. I can almost feel his check brush mine.
"How does it feel? To be so...close...then to loose?"
I've heard this method before. Miles like to torture the weak. He makes you loose before he even touches the beaker. Its working. I can't move and my body in tired. I taste metal in my mouth from hitting my chin.
"I guess it feels pretty shitty then." He pulls away and let's go of my arms, grabing my hair and draging me up the stairs with him.
I allow small screams to crawl out my throat into the drownding air. I try to pry Miles's hands off but he just grips tighter.
When we reach the top Miles picks me up and takes me to the open window. I can almost touch the beaker.
I claw at his sweaty arms and shirt; putting everything I have left. Nothing seems to work. I get shoved against the wall which looses my grip a smige, But enough.
"See that beaker?" He smiles, "Its mine."
And next thing I know I'm falling out a four story building. My heart is beating so loud I don't even here my fall. I only feel the buss of my watch telling me I didn't win, before the world goes black.
