You run as fast as you can, never once stopping for breath. The footsteps behind you don't fade and that pushes you to run harder. You can hear the pounding of your chasers' footsteps match the beat of your heart.
You're scared. For once in your eighteen years of living, you're actually scared.
Probably because you know that the people hunting you aren't there to take you home-they're there to imprison you. To take you back to that no good place, to lock you up, and to force you to endure the punishment you know you deserve.
Oh, but you won't let them.
You run further into the jungle, praying the canopy of the trees will somehow provide a cover. Soon enough, you realize that as brilliant as the jungle is for a hiding spot, you don't belong there.
Neither do you belong to the cold stone walls of what you like to call a prison, but something forces you to move in that general direction.
You don't have to run. You don't have to hide.
But it's all because of her you can't show your face anymore.
And she's going to pay.