Running, always running. Never a moment of rest. But it is a fate to which he has accepted. He tries not to look back, but it is impossible. The past is always catching up with him, nay, it is with him at all times. No matter how many time he tries to deny it, it shall forever be with him. In every word that passes his lip, in every shake of his head, all he can touch, feel, smell, taste, and see. The past will always be with him.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
He can no longer tell which is a heartbeat or footfall. All he knows is they both keep him alive and moving. Each thump feels like a stab. A stab of guilt and shame. Guilty of his choices and ashamed to be the one who survived. The coward. But a coward any day. Everyday.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
In. Out. In. Out.
How ironic. How morbidly ironic. To breath means to be alive. Then why is he? Why is the cause of millions of deaths, still breathing? He asks himself this everyday. Each breath is thick with the sense of betrayal. As if he is unworthy for just one more. Even he thinks he is. But the only reason he continues, is the thought of the lives he has saved. Of the breaths still taken. Those that, because of him, still have the ability to keep on letting air go in and out.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
In. Out. In. Out.
Scream.
Is he running away from the screams? To them? Or, rather, is he the one making the horrific sound? Not even he knows. Everywhere he runs, they surround him. He has grown used to them. An everyday occurrence. But that doesn't make them any less bone-chilling. A scream of fright here. A scream of fear there. Or, perhaps, a scram of anguish and loss. He is familiar with this type the most. For he is usually the one making it.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
In. Out. In. Out.
Scream.
Love.
He knows he shouldn't, but he can't help it. He grows attached. He loves. And then they leave. Most often unwillingly. A never ending cycle. It could drive a person mad. In a way, it has. A madman with a box, how fitting. The title of madman shall always follow, just not in the way you think. He tries not to love. So very hard. But to no avail. Memories are made,and hearts mended. Maybe, just maybe, this could go on forever. Until they get ripped from him. To a point where he can never see them again. He is scared to make one, just one, more friend. So very scared.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
In. Out. In. Out.
Scream.
Love.
Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.
Blood, sweat, tears. They all come together to create a perfect mixture. A mixture of pain and perpetual solitude. Alone with memories and tears, he tries to save everybody. He tries so hard, his body breaks. Sweat covers him as he tries. He refuses to let go, to let innocent lives end. It always ends the same. Every victory comes with a price. But he still continues. For he knows, oh does he know, the cost of losing is far, far worse. He will keep defending those who are innocent and help the evil see the wrong they have committed. For a price. A heavy price.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
In. Out. In. Out.
Scream.
Love.
Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.
Run!
Every instinct in his body tells him to. He fears staying in one place. It terrifies him. Run! You have to keep moving! He can't stop. Even if he wanted to. His very being is focused on putting one more foot down. Every time he stops, something bad happens. His soul is too restless to settle down, his mind too guilty. Maybe if he pretends there is an end, he can keep going. Maybe there is an end. He does not know, so he searches. He searches for and wide. For he is the traveller, the runner, the learned man, the healer. The Doctor.
Run you clever boy, and remember.
I'm the Doctor, basically, run.
Nice to meet you, run for your life.
Doctor, what do we do?
Run, Doctor, run for your life!
We run.
Run.
Run!
And he runs.
AN:
I posted this story a while ago, without an authors note... so, hi. I just want to say, please leave a review. So far I have had views, but no word if anyone has liked it and it is kinda worrying me. Please give me tips on writing, tell me if the story is crap, or just to say you liked/hated it. I'll even take grammar and spelling checks. Let me know please. I want to publish more stories and I need to know if this type of writing is good. I need your opinion... Thanks you for reading and have a nice day/night.. depending on when you read this...