•| Misfit |•

| Prologue |

She was running. Running mindlessly through the deserted alleyway, as fast as she possibly could. The eight-year-old little girl had never been so terrified in her life. Tears poured down her cheeks relentlessly, sweat erupted on her brow, she felt close to collapsing from exhaustion, but she couldn't stop. She wouldn't. She had to get away. He was gaining on her. She had to get away...

Or he would kill her too.

Her mind flipped back to the blood-curdling scene she had just witnessed. It made her want to scream. She opened her mouth... but no sound emerged. Her throat was choked with pain and fear, every breath she took in hurt her chest, and the sound of heavy thudding footsteps behind her seemed to be getting closer and closer. What if she was caught? What would he do to her? Her mind again raced to what she had left behind on that abandoned field.

That woman lying on the grass. Covering her face with both hands, kicking her legs in agony. Nobody would hear her screams; people seldom go near that place at night. Broken pieces of glass. Blood. Tears. A haunting plea ringing eerily into the night. She desperately covered her ears with her palms; but they didn't stop the whispers of the little voice in her head.

"You're a child," the voice kept telling her. "You couldn't have helped her. He's too strong for you. You can't do anything. Just run. Run. Run..." The words played in her head in a constant loop. She didn't even know where she was going anymore; the image branded in front of her eyes had driven away all sense of direction.

Her legs were giving up. He would catch her anytime now. She needed to find her way home. She needed to find help.

Unable to bear it any longer, she shut her eyes; a desperate attempt to drive away the inflexible image before her driving her to distraction. A mistake. Her right foot caught onto some loose stone, sending her tumbling to the ground. She could hear his footsteps behind her, his heaving breath. It made her muscles tighten painfully, her heart clenching in fear of what would happen next.

The little girl suddenly turned her sweaty, tear-streaked face backwards. Her large, haunted eyes met straight with mine, causing me to let out a sharp, involuntary cry.

The little girl was me.

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I woke up trembling, sweating profusely in spite of the cold, my heart pounding madly. My eyes fell on the clock hung on the opposite side of the wall.

2:44 a.m.

There it was again; that inexorable, unrelenting nightmare. I knew for a fact I wouldn't be able to go back to sleep again. It just wasn't possible. How long would I be able to survive this?

I extended my hand to the bedside table and grabbed a bottle of water, gulping it down in one go, willing my heartbeat to slow down. As snippets of the horrible, recurring dream started coming back to me, I shut my eyes.

But how do you shut your eyes to an image imprinted on your mind?

I pulled my knees up and rested my head on them. Then I did the only thing that seemed to help.

I cried.

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Stay tuned for the next chapter...