[WARNING: This story may contain sexual content, violence, and swearing. People who are sensitive to these themes should NOT read this book.]
"Yeah, better safe than sorry, but has it ever crossed your mind that you're playing it too safe?"
I've al...
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Running was something I thought I was always good at. It was something I enjoyed when I was younger, but ever since... three years ago, I had to take intense self-defense classes. I was forced to build my stamina and my cardio in order to outrun any threat. I used to see running as something enjoyable, an escape from reality, something that I can look forward to. But now, I only see running as a weapon for survival.
My brain has made running a warning. A warning for threats. A warning for them. A warning for The Hooded Figures.
And this is why my body decided to have a panic attack during the middle of my run. I felt my breath getting shorter, forming small puffs of smoke that I have choked out in the cold winter night. I can't breathe at all. I was gasping for air, I was desperate to be able to breathe in more air. The tightness in my chest had only increased, clenching painfully around my heart.
My legs finally gave out from running while having a panic attack, stumbling in the dark street. The only light source being the street light above me
I can't take it anymore.
I grasped tightly onto the lamp post, breathing heavily. You can do this, just breathe in and out like you used to do. I listened to my own advice and sucked in a large breath, before exhaling.
I was finally able to catch my breath again. I was finally away from the hooded figure. I was finally safe again.... at least for now. Feeling my body being unable to support my body anymore, I slid onto the pavement, feeling weak. Both Emotionally and Physically. It's the fifth time now, give me a break, I just moved here for fuck's sake.
I felt my eyes welled up with tears. I tried blinking them away. Even if I was able to blink my tears away, I still wasn't able to take the sinking feeling away from my chest.
I hated this. Feeling this helpless in the dark night, sitting under the lamp post on the pavement. It's been three years, they still kept bothering me, I just wanted a break from everything. That's why I moved to Salinas, to just have a break, and hope that they don't find me yet, I still have a year before the torture ends, but who knows... I could die a year later, in that game.
But I was determined to survive this stupid game, the 'Radar Game' to be exact. I know if I don't survive this stupid game, Dylan would lose everything. I was his only family member left. Not that our parents died, but.. they just didn't care. He neglected us, while my whore of a mother left us.
It was hard for Dylan to leave New York, a place where we find more comfort and warmth than my own house, or 'mansion'. But Dylan quickly realized that it was time for us to leave, ever since that 'wake up call' and that he was also sick of this game. He stopped holding onto the small hope that one day our 'mom' or 'dad' will come back to their senses and start to regard us.
