The Chase

Excellence Award in the 'The Text Generation 2014' competition

My thoughts were racing; my heart was pounding violently in my chest. Panic grew in the pits of my stomach, beads of sweat slid down my forehead and an odour of fear left a trail behind for the police dogs to chase after me. I stopped running and hid behind one of the garbage cans in the alley. I caught my breath and relaxed slightly.
I heard low echoes of footsteps approaching me fast. Prayers of mercy and forgiveness left my lips silently, it was only a matter of time before I was caught and thrown into jail for murdering him. What am I saying? I didn’t murder that man; he killed himself for a reason I didn’t know. I was just there at the time to see him do it, and for the police to see me in the scene.
Before I could finish with my thoughts, someone had pulled me out from behind the garbage can and forced me to run with them. Startled, I stumbled many times before gaining balance and running with the man holding my hand. I tried to pull out of his grip but it only tightened. What if this man was a drunkest, or worse, what if he was what the police thought I was?
I began to panic again. I hated feeling scared and weak but I was trying to run from two things. I had a reason to feel like this. The only thought that crossed my mind was to scream for the police to hear; at least I knew what their jobs were. I had no information about this stranger.
I opened my mouth to begin my ‘escape plan’ but instead of a scream coming out, I was gasping for air. The man had covered my mouth with his hand; he pushed me up against the wall and glared his dark, stormy, grey eyes into mine.
“If you don’t want to live, and by that I mean rot in jail, tell me and I will leave you behind. Or you can stop your useless struggles and run,” he hissed at me intensely. I nodded in response, but I wasn’t sure if it was to rot in jail or to run with the stranger. Before I could think more of it, he had gripped my hand again and we ran endlessly through alleys and filthy streets until sun rise.
Many questions filled my mind and I wanted to know the answers before I found myself in the home of a serial murderer. I didn’t know where this man was taking me and I didn’t trust him either.
“I will inform you about everything when we get there, Helen,” he said without looking at me. I was shocked, was he a psychic? How did he know my name? I debated between myself whether to ask him how he knew me but thought it was best to wait until we got there. I was sure I’d understand then…

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