Runner

Runner: Part 6

I am running down a dark narrow hallway that seems to morph into a never-ending tunnel. I focus all my attention to the bright light at the end that gets closer by every step I take. Adrenaline courses through every vein in my body and takes over as I pump my arms and push my feet farther. Nothing else is on my mind besides from the light at the end of the tunnel. I will finally be free! But from what? From being a Runner? Isn't that what I have been my whole life? It's what defines me. Although, I don't think that's what the officials think anymore. I have become a Risk. My ears start ringing as fists pound against the walls of the tunnel. Something gets a hold of my ankles and I fall to the hard ground with a loud bang that echoes all around me. My mind starts spinning as my heart beat quickens and I look up towards the end of the tunnel where the light is calling to me. Cold, haggard hands crawl unto my body and begin dragging me away from the light. I try to break free but all my efforts fail. I scream into the dark tunnel that has become an empty void of nothingness, but no one hears my call. They drag me farther and farther away from the light back into the darkness. My whole life I have lived in the darkness unable to truly see what is around me and I am being dragged back. My screams get lost in thick darkness encircling me and so do I.

The distant sound of a siren awakens me from my sleep. I wake up in a cold sweat that has drenched most of my body. A slight shiver runs through me as the sickening feeling of skeletal fingers crawling up and down my back lingers. I sit up in my bed for a moment trying to comprehend everything that happened in my dream. I place a steady hand over my racing heart and try to take slow, calming breaths. It doesn't seem to work so I frustratedly kick off my covers and get out of bed. I brace myself as I step onto the cool, hard floor and, surprisingly, it feels invigorating. I try to think back to the last time that I had a nightmare, but it all comes back in a blur. I exhale loudly and reach into my pillow case where I stashed the notes that the boy wrote to me. I pull them out and align them in chronological order across my bed. I stare at them and rack my brain for answers but nothing surfaces. I need answers to all the questions I have and why I am here. I think back to the dream I had and remember that I was focusing on the light, which means the light is my answer. But what would be the light in reality? Abruptly, my eyes dart to the lamp across from me and I scurry over my bed like a wild animal and end up standing before a lamp that is in desperate need of dusting. What am I doing? I feel so delusional and stupid! Why on earth am I searching for answers from an outdated, moth-eaten lamp? Feeling hopeless, I slump down against the wall and rest my heavy head on my knees.

"Oh, woe is me."

A thought nags me at the back of my head that I can't get rid of. If the boy and I are someway different from the other recruits that we trained with, is the colour of our hair an attribute to that? I don't know about the boy, but on my side of the building that I used to live on, I recall being the only girl with brown hair. Although, there was a time when I heard some of the girls talking about another girl who completely vanished one day. They said that the girl had brown hair. A brisk shiver runs through me when I think of what probably happened to her. She probably found out that she was different from the others, and escaped before the officials could find out and hold her captive. But how? The pace of my heart quickens when I realize that I am in the same position that she was in. The boy wants to escape, and I have no choice but to follow him. But what if the girl didn't make it out? What if the officials caught her? Who knows what happened to her. My palms become sweaty when I come to the realization that the boy and I have no chance escaping from here. There is no way we can get past the tough security system around this place.

"How do I get out of here!?" I scream in frustration.
Unexpectedly, a voice replies from the other side of the wall.

I jump up in surprise and slowly back away from the talking wall. I wait for another response, but when there is none, I walk back to examine it. I find myself feeling the rough surface of the wall when I hear the voice again.