So scared, adrenilin racing through my veins. I knew where I was. They had found me.
Searching for my safe haven. I spot the closet
Though I should have known it wouldn't be that easy. His laughter, thick with a russian accent mocked me as I stood up.
Scared out of my wits. I listen for where the source of his mockery came from.
But like the sirens earlier, it echoed all around me, coming from all side.
Please let this be some lucid dream.
I spotted the source of the Russians haunting laughter, a speaker set into the desk by my bedside.
"You are a silly girl," he mocked me. "You think you can run from your past?"
"What past?" I speak back. "Who are you?"
"All those days of running. Give in, it's what your father would have wanted." Anger boiled inside me.
"Why do you want my father?" My anger now revealed through my response.
Little did he know that I had never even met my father. I only remember three words he had ever told me. Don't stop running.
He just stared. Those deep hazel eyes. He's not looking at me anymore. He's looking at my soul.
I had lived by these words all my life.
Why would I change now, if I was in a tough situation, I would do what I always did. I would run.
He just observes my debate within. He knows what i'm thinking.
In my mind, I know this is all a trap. If I run, they will tie me down and lock me away for sure. If I do what they want, maybe they will let me go. But what are the chances in that? My legs ache for speed, my feet scream for pavement beneath, instead of this--this--this hospital bed. My arms, tied down, want to punch through the walls. Tears stream down my face.
PS sorry for the long reply!
Why was it I who had to learn the secrets? Why was it I who had to be the pawn, the messenger, the one running through dead man's land just to try and find an ounce of freedom from this torture?
I felt trapped, with no hope of escape. Doubt corroded my thoughts and fear paralized my body.