Run Rabbit
"I wanna play a game."
And that's your cue. Your cue to run, run, run. Don't stop, to look to see if he is following. Just keep moving. And he's shouting in delight, "run, rabbit, run." You start to feel hope soaring, your thinking your not going to get caught this time. And that delusion goes right out the fucking window when you're slammed down, down, down onto the floor. You idly notice the coopery taste of blood in your mouth. He roughly turns you over and grabs your wrists hard enough to bruise. The kiss that follows is almost gentle. He tastes like watered down ice tea. And you think about how he always tastes sweet, even if he isn't. And that thought makes you want to laugh and cry. Laugh at the hilarity of that statement, and cry because it's all so horrible. But you hold completely still, trying to deny him any fun. It works, he sits back and a look of mock disappointment crosses his face. "That wasn't very exciting." He rolls off of you and sits on a chair, looking as if nothing had happened. You dare to hope that maybe he won't this time. The next words though have you scrambling for the door. "To make this chase more exciting, I'm gonna bring my guns."
AN: this can be anyone really. I was just in the mood for something kinda angry and depressive.