Miles burn away under my feet, the rapid thud of my bare toes against the ground mimics the frantic over-acceleration of my heart.
I'm no longer sure where I am, not on the Academy ground which is a certainty. I've never seen gravel on campus, and certainly not this many cars either. I must have left the school behind a good half an hour ago – although I'm not sure of the time either. My only indicator for time being the sun's burning presence high above me , it's possibly early afternoon – so I could have been running for an hour or two, although I'm not entirely certain what time I woke and ran from the dorms in the first place.
I'm already receiving enough cursory glances for running around in the middle of the day in my sleep wear, so when I stub my toe against the pavement and stumble in the midst of unsavoury cussing… The will to keep going parts from me as fast as it'd come, taking with it the helpful dose of adrenaline that clouded my panic-stricken mind.
For a long moment I stand there on the pavement, one hand pressed against a building for support, gazing down at my feet blackly while blood begins to ooze from the skinned front of my toes. I know I'm panting, that I can't suck in enough oxygen to satisfy my aching lungs, which is probably why the world looks so fuzzy and my head feels like a feather in the breeze. But for the life of me my head feels stuffed full of nothingness, and not the good kind of nothingness either.
I should probably find my way back to the school…
…Is the plan I would have followed had my knees not suddenly given out on me and sent me crumbling to the ground, awkwardly clutching at the wall while crouching like a deformed frog.
As my heart began to settle, taking reassurance from my body's sudden immobility, the blissful effect of numbness that comes with adrenalin began its slow retreat too. It takes me only seconds to realise my feet burn like fire and my calves ache from the sudden strain, not to mention the stabbing pain in my side just below my ribs.
Still half in a daze, I turn my head and feel my stomach roil at the sight of my gory, raw feet. Obviously skin and gravel did not agree with one another and my stomach makes another lurch, attempting to find something for me to throw up but finding my digestive system painfully empty of any such contents.
The only option I can think of is to sit there and wait while the throbbing subsides, and preferably not looking at it was a pleasant idea too.
I face the opposite direction, slowly making out the lazy intersection, with fewer cars than there are people. There might be a flower shop across the street but my eyes are still too blurry to be sure, but I'm certain I must be on the ground outside a bakery because the sickly sweet scent of pastry is making my stomach more upset than mere wounded feet will allow.
In front of me, in the intersection, a car revs when the light turns green emitting a loud, sudden 'pop' that makes me jump and press myself further against the wall for cover.
Just like that the daze shatters.
It doesn't even take ten seconds before my eyes are flooding with tears and the warm liquid is streaking down my face is salty waterfalls. If the world was blurry before, it's unrecognisable now. The sobs start off nice and slow, building up into throat clenching cries that leave everyone who passes me in a state of flustered worry – not that any of them stop.
My hands come up and I clench fistfuls of brown hair as hard as I can, trying to block the sinking horror that's paralysed my legs and turned the back of my eyelids into a film reel of bloody memories.
Get down! He has a gun!
A few times I choke on my own spittle and cry even harder when I'm able to draw a breath.
Someone call the cops!
I'm not sure when the rocking starts or when I curled in on myself and buried my face into my legs, but every time my body rocks forward my feet throb with the pressure applied to the open, oozing sores.
Stop it!
Pleasedon'thurtmepleasedon'thurtmepleasedon'thurtme…
Wanna taste some bullets too?
Wordless, blood curdling screams echo through my head – all so familiar and foreign at the same time.
Fuckin' die, rat!
Actually…one of those screams are probably mine. My throat hurts enough for it.
You gonna snitch, coward?
"Please-" I beg between sobs and frantic moans that quickly turn into shrieks of terror. "Please-"
"S-sir, you can't sit here-Sir!"
My boot tastes good don't it?
A hand presses down on my shoulder and I lash out, shoving myself into the wall and shrieking for all its worth. The sound fills my head and I'm catapulted back and forth between past and present. Clawing at the wall to get away, all the while hugging it at the same time for the stability it supplies. "Please…please," I cry, struggling to breathe, "Please, don' hurt m-me,"
Ha ha ha! Look at that pathetic begging!
You think y're better than us? Answer me, rat! Do ya? Huh? Huh? I said fuckin' answer me!
"Sir, no one is trying to hurt you, but if you don't cooperate and move, I'll have to call the police. You're scaring our customers."
No coppers to help ya here, coward. How 'bouts we carve ya up nice'n pretty?
"Please-" I lament, sobbing against my arm, pressing further and further against the wall. Breath hardly passing my lips before I choke it back out.
"Hey, kid, the lady asked you to move."
Like that? Ya want me to do a li'l more?
Not the face, bro, wouldn' want 'im looking bad fer the ladies.
Ha! Ladies! Who'd want a pathetic rat like this?
"N-no" I choke out, curling my fingers into my hair, tugging and pulling, feeling strands come loose under the pressure.
"Please, sir,"
Maybe I'll keep him for myself b'fore I kill 'im.
"This isn't the patent office, kid, we're calling the police."
Ya'd like that, huh? Wanna piece of this? Probably all loose 'n ready fer me already…
I feel hands curling around my upper arms, the brush of a leg against my side. Swinging my arms wildly, I feel flesh meet flesh. The hands clamp tighter around me before I let out an unhallowed screech that seems to tear my head in two.