stoical - l.h.

three

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My breath tears from my hoarse throat in a wheeze as my feet pound against the concrete. My arms are pumping hard, along with my heart, which feels like it could burst at any second. I can feel the exhaustion seeping into my brain, telling me stop running so fast. I need to stop. I never run this much, and it's bound to kill me sooner or later. But still, I don't stop. I can't.

The street next to me is seemingly abandoned. Not one car has driven past me in the moments that I've been running next to it. The streetlights above are a burnt orange, barely lighting the street and making it impossible to see what's coming ahead. It seems like it's night, and I spare a glance upwards, which sends me into a fit of dizziness that makes me trip. Instantly, I feel like I'm going to vomit, but the feeling seems to pass quickly. My head, however, does not recover, and a strong ache settles itself into the center of my forehead. I see no stars, no moonlight. It's night, but it isn't. This doesn't feel like anywhere I've ever been.

It's so damn hot here, so hot, to the point where my clothes are completely drenched with sweat all over. It drips from my temples, creating pathways along my face, mixing into the tears that flow from my eyes just as freely. I'm panting with the heat, thirsting for water. I have the urge to remove the clothing that clings to my sticky skin.

I don't know where this is. I don't know where I'm going. I don't remember getting here, and I don't know how he got here, how he's chasing after me. All I know is I must keep running, I must, because if I don't, he'll find me and do something terrible to me. The only thing I have to do, my mind keeps reassuring me, is keep running.

It is getting to the point, however, where I just can't. My breathing is ragged, my heart pumping so quickly it is painful. The feeling of pure fire racing through my veins fills my legs and my arms, the soles of my feet and even my stomach. I try to wipe sweat from my brow and discover how much I've overheated. I can feel the blood in my face, drenching my face in a horrendous red. This only makes me cry harder, which adds to every other pain I'd already been feeling. There's pressure in my head like I'm miles and miles underwater with no way to swim up. It fills my brain and makes it feel like my ears will explore outward. I cry out, not able to stand the pain, not when I can't stop running.

I can't even speak. I can scream and cry, but my brain is not capable of speaking. The most I can do is let my thoughts flit about weakly, though no one can read my mind.

I want to stop, I say in my head. A sob escapes my lips. It's so cowardly and full of pain, it doesn't even sound like me. I can't run anymore.

Just one thing, the voice purrs evilly. You just have to do one damn thing, and you can't even do it? Run, Lavender. You're not allowed to stop.

My head drops as I sob. My eyes are falling shut with exhaustion, but I can just barely make out my feet slapping painfully against the sidewalk. With each step, pain courses through my bones, my muscles. I can't do this. I don't know where I'm going. I feel like I haven't moved an inch since I started running.

Where am I going? I wonder.

I notice that the pressure increases when the voice in my head replies. Doesn't matter.

But it does, because if I could at least see a light before me, I would have hope. I'd be able to continue. There isn't a light ahead of me, though. There isn't anything but darkness. Nothing. I swear I can hear the voice laugh in my head, if that's possible.

He's coming, it informs me.

The hair on the back of my neck stands on end, and goosebumps cover my skin. I speed up as much as I can. I can't let him catch me, I can't let him even see me. He'll hurt me, I know it, and I can't stand the thought of it. I just want to go home. That's all I want, but I've never felt further from home than I do right now.