A bullet ripped through his calf just as he reached the edge of the woods. He was escaping. Escaping from a life in prison. Escaping from the confinement of iron bars.Escaping from a crime he didn't commit. It seemed so close.But now it was all so far.He stumbled and fell to the ground. "Stop!" yelled the guards, close behind. He turned around to look, but wasted no time. He scrambled to his feet, and limped towards the trees.Rifles cracked. The cool night air was broken by the sharp smack of whipping bullets. He tried to run, but his leg - leaking blood - couldn't move. It drug behind him, raking leaves and dirt along the way.He struggled. Strived. Breathing labored. Tired. He used all his strength to push himself into the woods. The flash of gun barrels erupted behind him. Bullets grazed the earth, soil flying into his face. Footsteps closed in behind him. Quickly. Rapidly.He made one last charge. He ignored the pain. He drove himself to move. Running. Sprinting. He was escaping.CRACK.One gun-shot rung. He stopped in his tracks. And felt a trickle of blood run down his forehead.
