The Gay Bunker

Chapter One

Evening was falling on a cold, autumn Friday as I was on my way back to the orphanage. The icy wind stung my cheeks and my bare fingers sticking out of the sleeves of the black jacket that 'BRT Arcadia' gave to everyone. My shoulders were pulled up to my chin whom were now hurting like hell, which didn't exactly help in my situation and my throat burned from the cold air.

I went to a high school in Oklahoma City. St. Eugene Catholic School, which was the reason I was walking with half bare legs – making my legs a red colour – because of the knee length skirt, a part of the ridiculous uniform we were forced to wear.

I had to take a school bus, every day, which stopped on NE 220th Street, but went right at N Anderson Rd. I had to step off the bus, and walk about 20 min. to where my orphanage was located. So now I was walking through the of the outskirts of Oklahoma, surrounded by trees and the darkness of the night.

I didn't know who my parents were. I didn't even know where I was born. I had been in the BRT Arcadia for as long as I could remember. It wasn't a popular home, as it was pretty far away from the city.

As my mind was fantasizing about the cosy, warm homes, the smoke coming out of their chimney, the crackling of the fire in their fireplaces, I suddenly noticed a second pair of footsteps besides mine. At first I was confused. I was the only foster child in my home who went to that school; I was the only one who they could afford going to a decent high school.

The footsteps matched mine, I also noticed, which meant it wanted to keep close to me, as I hurriedly paced on the asphalt of the road.

Fuck, I thought, I'm being followed.

But then I realized how bad this was. I started hyperventilating, I felt like passing out.

No.

1

I had to think. Think my way out of this. I still had 12 min. or so to walk until I arrived. That was going to be a close one.

2

But If I didn't start running soon they would catch me anyway.

3

I prepared for a sudden run, to confuse them, maybe.

GO!

I pushed me off the ground. My legs moved fast as I started sprinting, and moved even faster when the footsteps behind me followed.

I threw the school books I was holding earlier to the ground, not caring about those at the moment.

My mind was racing with thoughts. Things to call out to people who weren't there. But even if I tried to yell, nothing came out. My breathing was too fast; my longs were hurting from icy air too badly.

My elbows moved rapidly against my waist, the fabric of the coat and sweater under it probably leaving red, burn-like marks. My eyes would tear up if the wind didn't dry them immediately after.

The footsteps – I realized when I was slowing down because I was out of breath and energy – were coming closer again. This person was fast, I noted, faster than I was anyway. I needed to get away somehow. The orphanage was too far away to reach it without getting caught. Nearby public places we're too far away to get help.

My feet were hitting the ground hard, making everything so much heavier. With every step, everything shook and my head hurt. I was slowing out badly now, and the person didn't seem to stop, maybe even beginning to run faster. Though I didn't understand how they even could. The person seemed to have trained in this. Which basically meant I had no chance of escaping them by running in a straight line.