Run

3

When she came to, Eden could hear the sirens. They were screaming, and they were screaming closely. As in, half a block away loud. Cursing her terrible luck, she scrambled to her feet and rammed her arms into the sleeves of her coat, and tucked her phone into the inner pocket.

Skidding round a corner, she nearly stacked it but caught herself. She slid across the wet street and ran as fast as she could. Her legs pounded on the pavement the same way her heart slammed into her ribs. Sucking in a large breath, Eden took a massive bound with her ginormous legs, only to be snatched out the air and to the side. She squeezed her eyes closed and tears streamed. This was the end.

The slick metal knife squeezed against her throat, and a deep male voice scratched out, "Calm the hell down. You ain't gonna die." Eden's brain took a ten second pause to process that fact.

Eden didn't believe him. That's what they all said, according to CSI: Miami. She felt him drag her out the alley, her blue hair caught in one hand of his and his other holding the knife to her throat. She heard him half, and an eye cracked open. He was holding her in front of the cops, and they had their guns aimed at him, not her.

"I killed him! T'a bastard wife beater with the beard. I killed him. I got 'is girl here. I'll kill her if ya even think bouts shoot'n'. I'm gonna Run an't'cha aren't ta shoot."

He grabbed her and sprinted left, so that she was behind him and he was out of the line of fire, he dragged her into some shady nightclub.

"Who are you," Eden screamed, tugging and pulling the whole time. He turned on her and grabbed the top of her forearms. He pulled her nearer and smiled.
"I'm a friend ta you mom's.  She's gottcha a ferry out the country, buts it's the furthest I can take cha. Good luck," he said. Eden barely just got a good look at him. His shirt brown hair was slicked with sweat and his round grey eyes shined in a smile. His scraggy beard was greying and his strong grin cracked his face in half as natural as his accent, Irish, broke through his lips.

To be honest, she found herself blushing. She played it off as from running, and forced a pant through her jaw. She smiled sadly and went to speak, but before she could, a bullet pierced his skull, ripped the skin, and flew fast next to Eden's head. She gasped in horror as his body fell to its knees and then collapsed sideways.

Eden steeled herself. She'd have time to mourn on the ferry to wherever the hell she was escaping to. She could deal with it all then. Until then, she would run. She pushed and shoved her way through the club. Nobody had heard the gunshot. Nobody had heard his death. She pushed the thought away and sprinted. She bet the SweatCoin app on her phone was blowing up.

Eden halted, a horrifying though entering her mind. Her phone. Anyone could track her through the phone. That's how they found her, it wasn't luck, she was being followed! Taking the sleek model from her pocket, she screwed her eyes shut in horror at the thought of what she was about to do. She threw the phone on the floor gently. She pulled the face she was making away and wiped her expressions clean. If she was on the run, emotions were useless. She couldn't get rid of them, but she could hide them. She brought her boot down, but it halted an inch above the phone. Grinning evilly, almost, she snatched the phone up, and wandered into a thicket of human traffic. She slid her phone into an old woman's bag, and continued walking. The woman hadn't seen.

Perfect.