I couldn't do it, I couldn't keep going. I couldn't run anymore, I couldn't even see through the thick sheet of rain pouring down around me. I fell to my knees, grasping the hard concrete below my hands, I made my way over to something soft, small patches of grass and dirt. I tried to remain on my knees, but I fell to the side, my head swirling with nausea and exaustion. I gave in to the weakness.

Don't fall asleep Aubry. You know what will happen, they'll come back, they always do. They'll get you.

It was right, I knew they would find me, it was useless to run, and I knew that for a fact. They would find me again. It was all my fault. I felt hunted, but I knew I had no chance of getting away.

xxxxxx

Johnny sighed as he looked out the window for the seventh time, then looking back down at his sketch pad. "Fuckin rain..." he grumbled as he tapped his pencil, craving a brain freezy. He looked out the window once more, knowing that it wasn't going to stop anytime soon. He dropped his pencil on the empty paper, snatching his coat from off the floor. He hadn't spoken to anyone in a week, the doughboys were gone, Mr. Samsa and Nailbunny had disapeared, and so on. Plus, it would be easier to get his urges satisfied without the hastle of long lines and other complications. Maybe while he was out, he would get a taco, he hadn't eaten in a few days. Throwing open the door, he couldn't see more than a foot in front of him, and with his first step out of the door, he was soaked.

Whistling as he began his stroll, something seemed different. Something was slumped over on his lawn. A dead animal? No, it was too big to be road kill, or anything type of dead domestic pet. He stood there, sheilding his eyes from the rain, trying to figure out what it was. He squished through the mud to investigate the mass lying there.

A person? They were completly wet and muddy. He didn't understand how someone could just take a nap in the middle of a major storm, and on someone's lawn...

He sighed angrily, wanting highly sugared foods from the 24/7, but knowing that he couldn't just leave them there, perhaps they would put up a good fight, and that would entertain him for a while. Smiling to himself, he simply picked them up, they weren't that heavy at all. He noticed that a simply napping person would wake up at the sudden lift, perhaps they were dead...that'd be no fun at all.

He walked inside and downstairs with ease as the body hung limply over his shoulder. He dropped the load on the floor of the bathroom, walking away to take off his jacket and wring out his hair. He looked over, it's face was turned the other way, but wait a minute...

She? He grabbed a towel and walked back over, turning the face of his possible vicitm towards him. He was right, it was a girl. Her face was caked with mud and something he saw all too often, blood. He wiped it off, a face of youth, but how old was she? More of a question would be who was she. He noticed a wallet chain and yanked it, pulling out a black wallet with some logo on it. Opening it, he found a credit card with a man's name on it, a frequent buyer card to a franchize cafe and a few pictures. There was also a large sum of money, not a great amount, but he wouldn't walk around the neighborhood with it in his pocket. There was a drivers licenence as well, Aubry McCleary, she was eighteen, so not so much a youth anymore. Her clothes looked tattered and ragged, her shoes almost worn out, he then realized what she was...a runaway. He felt a sudden feeling of compassion for her spread over him, he had been in the very same situation once, but that was a different story. He slipped the wallet back into her pocket. Sitting down, he tried to figure out what to do. He didn't want to kill her, even though that was probably the best idea. "I'll kill you later." he whispered to her, even though she couldn't hear him, so it was more to himself.

He looked at her face, there was a long cut running across her forehead, it had probably happened within the past week. Inbetween the holes in her jeans he could see blood, where it looks like she had just skinned her knees. This kid was a wreck. And behind the mud, blood, water and whatever else there was, he saw a glimpse of himself. Well, not himself,. but he remembered when he had ran away. He had been taken in by a man who found him sleeping in an alleyway, the guy was so Christ-like, he fed him, gave him clothes, money, and advice, and not once did he feel judged. If it hadn't been for that guy, he would probably still be a hobo.

Hobo is a funny word.

He grabbed her hands and pulled her up, setting her sitting up against a wall, he took the towel and finished getting the grime off her face. Her hair was blonde, her nails were done, she had definatly not been homeless, he guessed she'd been from a decently wealthy family. She was wearing a band shirt with jeans and hightops, and he could see that she wore heavy eye make up, even though most of it had ran down her face. Yes, he would admit, she was pretty, but he had killed much prettier girls.