A/N: Short one-shot that I wrote during Geometry...not exact the best place scrawl down this sorta thing! Heaven forbid that the teacher pick it up! O.o
Anyways... I don't own Doctor W- wait!...No. Still don't. Darn it.
You have to keep going, always moving on, never stopping. Don't slow down, ever, because, if you do, everyone gets closer. Everything gets brighter. And nothing is the same. Which is why you don't slow down. Simply because you can't. As tired as you are, as beaten up as you are, even when you think you can't take another step... you do, and then another, and another. Just keep moving forward.
Looking behind you isn't an option. Staring ahead is painful; instead, you watch everyone go by. There might as well be glass separating them from you. And when you break the glass, even if you're trying to help, people get cut by the shards. Every time. Without fail. The people that aren't wounded, are left behind when you're running.
Pain, destruction, hate, horror. All of the things that follow you as persistently as your shadow. Some delude themselves into thinking that they're different–indestructible– and manage to fool you too. It never lasts long, the idea of perfection. What hurts the most is watching them fall, spiraling down. But, through it all, even as they fall, they still trust you. That look in their eyes is too much. The memories they leave behind are unforgettable, no matter how much you wish and want them to go away.
What do you have but to continue on the lonely road? Still watching the humans pass by, taking pictures of people taking pictures. When you've got the whole universe by the throat, able to bend and mold it to your whim–when you're the most powerful creature alive, then why are you living in the dark alleys? Why are you running?
Because the thing that you must fear the most, that you're trying to get the farthest away from, is yourself.
You are your own worst enemy, or rather, the memories you hold are. And the cycle begins anew. The pain stacking, doubling, over itself, like a bloated beast, gorging still. Ready all the weapons you want, but this is one nightmare that won't end. Not until you're dead.
A dangerous game of cat and mouse is afoot, and, no matter how clever and witty the little mouse is, it remains prey to the cat. The cat with unsatisfiable hunger. So, run little, clever mouse. And don't stop, lest my teeth and claws catch up with you.
Run.