I couldn’t get caught. I wouldn’t let them get me. There was only one thought on my mind; not today.
The echo of my boots striking the ground was loud and clear. I was practically waving a flag saying, hey I’m here, come get me fuckers. But I didn’t care. I couldn’t slow down.
I had to run faster.
They were following me, I could sense it. But I couldn’t see them. I had no idea where the bastards were, or what they were planning.
They were trained and used the darkness to their full advantage, wrapping themselves within the shadows.
And me? I was legging it faster than I’d ever done. It was the only thing I could do. How do you fight an enemy you can’t see?
The night gave them all the cover they needed to stay hidden. From me.
I could feel the throbbing of a stitch coming on in my ribcage – I seriously needed to take a break.
My legs ached and my muscles were bitching at me to slow the hell down.
Still, the pain was only a small sacrifice. I had to keep going.
My damp shirt clung to the moistness of my skin and fatigue consumed me, yet I pushed on and ignored my body’s plea for relief. It was going to get me back for this tomorrow.
This was an ugly mess I had been sucked into, and it wasn’t my fault. I did nothing wrong.
The crowbar I’d found earlier was held tightly between my clenched fingers, lying flat against my arm so as to not smack myself in the face. I swore that if I saw anything, I’d smash it in the head.
I wasn’t taking any chances. In fact, I had backup: Monsoon, my treasured dagger, rested in its leather sheath clasped to my belt, ready for action.
And good thing too, because my legs slowly began to crumble beneath me, I couldn’t take it anymore. I shouldn’t have slowed down, but my body disagreed and physically refused to keep up.
I rounded a corner and came to a halt, throwing my hand on the wall to support myself as I doubled over and drew in big gulps of air. My damn lungs nearly gave up on me. My breathing came out heavy and ragged, and long strands of damp, dark hair clung to my forehead. I was a mess.
My eyes scanned the street, nothing but the occasional tree and faulty street lamp stood on either side.
At two in the morning, the night was eerie and void of life. The moonlight basked on the deserted street, its soft light illuminating the area. It seemed calm and serene. Peaceful, almost.
But appearances lie - It was anything but serene. Tonight was a shitstorm unfolding.
Catching a glimpse of movement from the corner of my eye, I shot my gaze to the desolate road.
Standing barely twenty feet away from me, partially blocked by the looming leaves of an oak tree was a tall, human silhouette.
It was him. Them.
Shit. This wasn’t good.
