Fear scraped the back of her throat, hysteria bubbling to get out. Run, run, run. Run as fast as you can. Run or you’ll get caught. Run or you die. Run. A slight moan escaped her. Hands and feet shaking, eyes wild, mind numbed with fright, adrenaline and emotion. Deep, heaving pants. She ran, her feet slapping on the unyielding cement, pupils dilating. Prayers ran through her thoughts, maybe the one thing that could still help her. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe she couldn't be saved. Maybe she was meant to die his way. Her breath warred its way out of her lungs, her feet pushing on despite her exhaustion. Run. Run. Maybe you can run your way out of this.
Or maybe… you can’t.
“Run” whispered a sly voice in her ear. “Run for we will catch you”.
The chase makes it sweeter, darling.