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Description
He'll kill you, Johnny.

The asphalt felt like jagged teeth against the balls of my feet. Clawing, digging, biting at my bare calloused flesh with each hurried footfall. The chill breeze nipped at my skin, goosebumps pouring down my spine. How long do I have? I couldn't see the moon in the sky. Clouds veiled the luminary like shadowy fingers—as if someone jumped me from behind; a bag thrown over my head as they pulled me into the darkness. I could hardly see my own hands in front of my face. How did I get myself into this mess?

The rustling obsidian walls at either side exhaled a devilish howl, the icy wind clinging to my bones. My fingers curled into fists. I was a spring, coiled and taught—ready to tear the throat out of whoever or whatever so much as looked in my direction. But there was no one there; just a man and his thoughts. Impossible, neurotic thoughts that made the Italian silk shirt stick to my back. I tore it off, vague clicks and clacks tickling my ears as buttons rained down upon the roadway. I couldn't stand the heat—it was almost unbearable. Yet the delicate kiss of snowfall made me shiver. Fever chills came to mind. Those terrible, miserable waves of cold through your body as sweat covered you. Thinking of it only made me feel worse.

I started moving again, the shirt's fabric balled in my fist as I passed a traffic sign. I needed to move faster; I needed a way out—a side street, a driveway, anything. I ran track in high school; I had this. The muscles in my calves burned lightly as I pumped my legs. Time blurred with the tree-line. I ran and ran and ran. The bitter wind made my eyes water. I smashed them shut and didn't stop. How long have I been running? I didn't know—I didn't know anything.

These country roads went on forever. The forest? It both called to me and screamed at me to stay away. The dense spider's web of leaves and branches barred my entry, but I couldn't help but nurture the idea. I wasn't getting anywhere; I had to try.

"Damn it!" My own words sounded foreign to me in the howling wind, the edge of a fractured limb slashing my shoulder as I bounded into the woods.

My feet protested each step into the sharp sea of twigs and dirt and rocks. The last traces of light abandoned me as the foliage closed in all around. The forest was an inky black hell; I thought the highway was dark, but this—I couldn't do this. My foot smashed into something and sent me sprawling. I rolled to knees, turning myself around back towards the direction of the highway. My toes dug into the frost, mud under my fingernails as I scrambled through the prickling wooden spines.

The cool scent of juniper flooded my nostrils. It reminded me of the gin and tonic we shared. Warm, glowing tongues licking at stone as we curled up in front of the fireplace. The air so warm… Her skin so soft... A branch raked across my face, the sickening sweet taste of blood touching my tongue as my lip twitched in pain. There was no safety—no warm, beautiful woman in my arms—only dirt and paranoia as my fingers found the road again. I breathed a sigh of relief, but nothing had changed.

I'm going to die.

An owl hooted his murmured tune from high above and I spun towards the noise. I'm losing it, the thought attacked my mind again and again as I fought back to my feet and continued down the road. How could I have known? I hopelessly tried to reason with myself; forcing myself to believe my internal rambling excuses and rationalizations. But it didn't matter what I said. It didn't matter what I thought. Nothing mattered anymore, besides me and the road. I couldn't look back; perhaps I would turn to salt? No, only precious moments would be slain, counting down to my blood decanted on the pavement. It's only a matter of time.

Time. I looked at the watch on my shaking wrist, only greeted with shattered glass and broken hands. He gave it to me last Christmas. It wasn't a Rolex; I wasn't worth that much. I was no longer worth anything. He wanted my head on a pike for all I knew—I couldn't give him the chance; and so I ran. My legs burned now, the pads of my feet begging me to stop. I blinded my mind to their pleas, stopped up my ears to their entreaty for rest. I played a ruthless slave master over my own members and they behaved the only way they could, giving way to my weight and sending me into the ground, my arms outstretched in a pitiful attempt to lessen the impact. Bits of asphalt chewed into my palms. I cried out, but no one could hear. I'm alone here.

The moon wrenched itself past the clouds, casting its haunting luminance down to the shimmering icy highway. I curled up in a ball, holding my bloodied hands in agony. I'm pathetic, I mused or muttered, unsure of what to do anymore. Perhaps I deserved the fate ahead of me. You reap what you sow. I rolled to my back, letting the moon paint ghostly reflections against my retinas. Were my arms shaking from the cold, or from the fear and anticipation? Does it even matter?

So many appointments; so many meetings and dates and engagements; yet none with the Reaper himself. My heart raced quicker still, lying peacefully under the sky as it showed its arctic bounty. It might has well have been fire and brimstone. The dread was sludge in my veins, weighing me down, willing my life to ebb away like the ocean's midday tide. No, please no, I pleaded with my mind, begging for my own life. The executioner heard no wanton pleas—laughed off the whinging, selfish excuses of his anonymous victim. The terror in my heart ignored any notion of self-preservation, the rime in my fingers cackling in amusement towards my predicament. In my darkest hour, I became my own worst enemy. Only God could save me now.

A roaring hum fought to be heard past the gales, my stomach tying itself into more knots than I thought humanly possible. Judgment hour had come, and there I lie, half naked, barefoot and bleeding under the torrent sky. I dare not move from off the crisp painted yellow hashes repeating down the blackened strait, for fear the motor and tires would not carry out the job quick, painless. Why prolong, complicate the inevitable outcome and only award yourself more misery? Why run? She told me, run!—get as far away from me as you can, please! But my withering, breathing corpse almost longed for him to finish the job. There was a reason I was so terrible in every meeting, every proposal—I would choke down the anxiety and apprehension, mind my papers and notes as the world spun spiritedly around me. Why make things more difficult? Do what you're told!

The headlights played against the black ice stretched out between us. I could feel the faint, entrancing rumble of the earth as twelve valves fired in turn, five hundred horses pounding in my head. Faster, faster, I beseeched the backs of my eyelids. It wouldn't be long now, yet each moment felt nigh endless. I whispered to myself—I couldn't remember what I said as I said it, and the cloying noise snuffed my words from the air anyways. Just a few seconds now. One… two… three… four…

A screech of rubber as the vehicle stopped sent both relief and anxiety through me. Maybe it isn't him, I granted a rush of optimism through into to my conscious thoughts. Yeah right. He wasn't a disconnected fellow; he wasn't afraid of getting his hands dirty. The past four years with the firm taught me that. I only hoped that it wouldn't prove to be this literal. Maybe I could talk my way out of it. Maybe I could plead for my life. Maybe he would offer me the courtesy of a quick death.

I could hear the driver's door open, a pair of heavy feet meeting the ground and making their way around the vehicle. The steps were calm, strong, reverberating softly in my ears. The question of identity died—I knew how he carried himself. I knew the sound of those shoes hitting the floor; they were worth half my annual salary. He always made sure to remind me of that, smiling vaguely while he chewed on a toothpick. I did my best to avoid those one-on-one conversations with him; they only assured me of how replaceable I was. If he never contemplated my worth before, he did now.

"Hello, Johnny," The man's voice cut loud and clear through winter's white noise. "Funny running into you out here!"

He thought he was clever. I'm sure he was, but my brain was stuck on other things. Like the serrated scars atop his glistening bald head, shining under the light of the moon. The cold metal school ring from some prestigious university sitting on his right index—its setting like a brutal razor fixed to his large fist. Maybe it was just a gem. All I knew is how badly it would hurt if it found my flesh. So would his knuckles though, or the soles of his shoes. I was picking at bloody semantics at this point; musing over my demise. Paper or plastic. Beretta or .44 Mag. What does it matter?

"Get up! For Christ's sake, you look like a dead hooker." He reached down and grabbed my arm, helping me to my feet.

My legs ached under the strain, but I shuffled over to the car and steadied myself against the grill. Steam poured off the hood, heated from his furious pursuit. The warmth sunk into my outstretched limbs. It changed nothing, but the pleasant temperature offered me some solace amidst my misery. I felt his hand brush up against my back, giving me what should have been a friendly pat. Under the circumstances, it felt like the gesture marked me for death.

"I-I didn't know sir. I wasn't thinking, I—"

His powerful arms broke my rambling apology, sending me to the ground. I kept my eyes towards the road, down to my shaking hands. I couldn't rend my gaze away to meet his face. His cool façade was terrifying enough; now he threw me aside. He was furious.

"I don't like to waste time, Johnny," He knelt down beside me, but I dare not return eye contact. "You understand that, right?"

I nodded, the rest of my body stiff as a board.

"Good, I'm glad we're on the same page." He might have smiled, but I kept looking away. "So now that we're… connecting, let's get something clear."

My neck ached in the grip of his fleshy talon, pulled upwards and shoved up against the powder-coated steel. Sputtered rushes of air squeezed down my windpipe and into my lungs. His angered vision bore down on me. I felt as if I might disappear I was so small, but that would have been far too easy. His lips opened to speak; I could smell the stench of expensive cigars in each enraged breath. The image blurred under lack of oxygen and the nauseating aroma. I almost struggled against him, but that would have only complicated a situation already lethal. Submission was my only ally.

"I like you, Johnny," He smirked, leaning in so close that I could feel the heat emanating from his sweaty skin. "You keep your mouth shut and you do your job. That's exactly what I like in a peon like you! But see, you forgot your place. You messed up."

The moon shone bright and clear through the refracting snow. A glimmer of steel flickered at my peripheral. What is that? A moment later I found out; the wicked, pointed tip of a stiletto rest viciously against my throat. I swallowed hard and my Adam's apple shifted against the tip, a trickle of cherry running down to my collarbone. If my mind was racing before, now it was in a dead sprint. The slightest press of his grip and I'd be breathing through two holes. The fact that he was toying with me only made everything worse. If I was to die, so be it. Standing there, my extremities beginning to numb with cold, my mortality decided by a thin shaft of steel; a haunting limbo enraptured me. Just do it.

"Like I said, I like you, but I can't ignore this one." He seemed to shrug, the casualness of his expression sending me into further panic. "I'd say you're fired, but that would be cheesy."

He offered me a nod, as if saying "so long", his grip on the weapon's handle suddenly firm. This was it—I was dead. A shift of motion, a marriage of steel and sinew, and I would no longer have to worry about my fatal mistake. I wouldn't have to worry about anything. I wasn't afraid to die, but the pain—the pain to come was horrifying to imagine. What would it feel like to be skewered like this? These were no quiet, musing thoughts—these were crippling. How can this be happening? I don't want this.

I'm not sure what happened next. A cornered animal; no matter how small, no matter how weak; could be deadly. I shoved and kicked; I grabbed his arm and redirected the deadly point away from my neck and somewhere towards his body. He bellowed in pain and threw me with all his strength. My bare skin rolled along the pavement, but I couldn't have cared less about the damage. I freed myself from his grip—his murderous intent. I barely stopped to catch my footing, the carried momentum driving me into the pitch dark tree-line again. I still couldn't see a thing, but the alternative was far worse.

I held my hands out before me, groping wildly through the meshwork of branches and leaves as I tore through the darkness. Is he behind me? Turning to check wasn't worth the risk, and so I ran, just like before, tirelessly through the forest. I could see light from behind me—a flashlight probably. I wasn't alone, but I kept up my furious pace. I would run and run, forever if I had to. I wouldn't let him kill me. I did nothing wrong!

What had come over me? I had resigned myself to my inevitable fate. All I wanted was for it to end. Was I weak? Was I afraid? All those things sung true, but as I lay cradled on Death's doorstep, everything changed. A violent catalyst to shift my mindset, and oh how it shifted. I would claw and bite and fight for my life. The surety of that wailed like sirens in my skull. I would tear him apart before letting him so much as touch me.

I had changed.

"You're only making this harder for yourself, Johnny!" His voice echoed through the tangled forestry. "Just lay down and die like a good boy."

His words were deaf on my ears. I barely flinched as the reverb of a shotgun sounded out. He could chase and scream and shoot—I didn't care. He was no longer in control; I was. My shoulder smashed into a tree and I tumbled to the dirt, but my feet were instantly beneath me again. Pain forsook me, reason fled, only survival pulsed through my veins. Nothing existed but my legs and my freedom. Nothing, no one, no man could stop me.

Another boom resounded through the woods, timber beside me exploding in raining splinters. I could see dull light on the horizon now. Distance set my pursuer far behind me; I just needed to keep moving. The forest was running out. Just a few more seconds and…

I burst from the woodland maw, leaves in my hair and mud between my toes. Lunar light shimmered along the new highway, but I spared no time to examine the desolate road. I sprung from the mire, my dirtied feet hitting the asphalt again without slowing down. I left my hunter far behind, and I would not stop now. The next dark veil of foliage lay before me, welcoming me in my flight like loving, concealing arms. I sped towards the dense wall of shadowed green.

I never made it.

The bumper met my legs with crushing force. My body became a rag-doll, hurled upwards and into a curtain of unyielding glass. I could hear the snickering shatter, a prickling wash of cricks and cracks playing against my eardrums as flecks like razors sunk into my skin. Pain rushed through one of my legs as I came to rest on a bed of flexing steel. I heard a scream; a woman. Where was my enemy? Is it over?

The door opened. Someone exited the vehicle and came to my side. I could feel the heat from the engine, the softness of the woman's hands as she laid them on my broken body and wept. It all felt so familiar. It all felt so right. She took my hands in hers and I rolled to my side, a trail of crimson running across my eyes. I could hardly see, but her golden hair spoke to me softly in the paling light. Her fingertips raveled with mine, she leant over me and let out heavy sobs.

"I love you, Johnny."

I could feel nothing but the touch of her lips, wrapped in a canopy of her golden locks. The clouds rolled past and draped the moon, just as the coldness overtook my core. Letting out a breath, only four words could I have chosen.

"I... love you—"

Description
He'll kill you, Johnny.

The asphalt felt like jagged teeth against the balls of my feet. Clawing, digging, biting at my bare calloused flesh with each hurried footfall. The chill breeze nipped at my skin, goosebumps pouring down my spine. How long do I have? I couldn't see the moon in the sky. Clouds veiled the luminary like shadowy fingers—as if someone jumped me from behind; a bag thrown over my head as they pulled me into the darkness. I could hardly see my own hands in front of my face. How did I get myself into this mess?

The rustling obsidian walls at either side exhaled a devilish howl, the icy wind clinging to my bones. My fingers curled into fists. I was a spring, coiled and taught—ready to tear the throat out of whoever or whatever so much as looked in my direction. But there was no one there; just a man and his thoughts. Impossible, neurotic thoughts that made the Italian silk shirt stick to my back. I tore it off, vague clicks and clacks tickling my ears as buttons rained down upon the roadway. I couldn't stand the heat—it was almost unbearable. Yet the delicate kiss of snowfall made me shiver. Fever chills came to mind. Those terrible, miserable waves of cold through your body as sweat covered you. Thinking of it only made me feel worse.

I started moving again, the shirt's fabric balled in my fist as I passed a traffic sign. I needed to move faster; I needed a way out—a side street, a driveway, anything. I ran track in high school; I had this. The muscles in my calves burned lightly as I pumped my legs. Time blurred with the tree-line. I ran and ran and ran. The bitter wind made my eyes water. I smashed them shut and didn't stop. How long have I been running? I didn't know—I didn't know anything.

These country roads went on forever. The forest? It both called to me and screamed at me to stay away. The dense spider's web of leaves and branches barred my entry, but I couldn't help but nurture the idea. I wasn't getting anywhere; I had to try.

"Damn it!" My own words sounded foreign to me in the howling wind, the edge of a fractured limb slashing my shoulder as I bounded into the woods.

My feet protested each step into the sharp sea of twigs and dirt and rocks. The last traces of light abandoned me as the foliage closed in all around. The forest was an inky black hell; I thought the highway was dark, but this—I couldn't do this. My foot smashed into something and sent me sprawling. I rolled to knees, turning myself around back towards the direction of the highway. My toes dug into the frost, mud under my fingernails as I scrambled through the prickling wooden spines.

The cool scent of juniper flooded my nostrils. It reminded me of the gin and tonic we shared. Warm, glowing tongues licking at stone as we curled up in front of the fireplace. The air so warm… Her skin so soft... A branch raked across my face, the sickening sweet taste of blood touching my tongue as my lip twitched in pain. There was no safety—no warm, beautiful woman in my arms—only dirt and paranoia as my fingers found the road again. I breathed a sigh of relief, but nothing had changed.

I'm going to die.

An owl hooted his murmured tune from high above and I spun towards the noise. I'm losing it, the thought attacked my mind again and again as I fought back to my feet and continued down the road. How could I have known? I hopelessly tried to reason with myself; forcing myself to believe my internal rambling excuses and rationalizations. But it didn't matter what I said. It didn't matter what I thought. Nothing mattered anymore, besides me and the road. I couldn't look back; perhaps I would turn to salt? No, only precious moments would be slain, counting down to my blood decanted on the pavement. It's only a matter of time.

Time. I looked at the watch on my shaking wrist, only greeted with shattered glass and broken hands. He gave it to me last Christmas. It wasn't a Rolex; I wasn't worth that much. I was no longer worth anything. He wanted my head on a pike for all I knew—I couldn't give him the chance; and so I ran. My legs burned now, the pads of my feet begging me to stop. I blinded my mind to their pleas, stopped up my ears to their entreaty for rest. I played a ruthless slave master over my own members and they behaved the only way they could, giving way to my weight and sending me into the ground, my arms outstretched in a pitiful attempt to lessen the impact. Bits of asphalt chewed into my palms. I cried out, but no one could hear. I'm alone here.

The moon wrenched itself past the clouds, casting its haunting luminance down to the shimmering icy highway. I curled up in a ball, holding my bloodied hands in agony. I'm pathetic, I mused or muttered, unsure of what to do anymore. Perhaps I deserved the fate ahead of me. You reap what you sow. I rolled to my back, letting the moon paint ghostly reflections against my retinas. Were my arms shaking from the cold, or from the fear and anticipation? Does it even matter?

So many appointments; so many meetings and dates and engagements; yet none with the Reaper himself. My heart raced quicker still, lying peacefully under the sky as it showed its arctic bounty. It might has well have been fire and brimstone. The dread was sludge in my veins, weighing me down, willing my life to ebb away like the ocean's midday tide. No, please no, I pleaded with my mind, begging for my own life. The executioner heard no wanton pleas—laughed off the whinging, selfish excuses of his anonymous victim. The terror in my heart ignored any notion of self-preservation, the rime in my fingers cackling in amusement towards my predicament. In my darkest hour, I became my own worst enemy. Only God could save me now.

A roaring hum fought to be heard past the gales, my stomach tying itself into more knots than I thought humanly possible. Judgment hour had come, and there I lie, half naked, barefoot and bleeding under the torrent sky. I dare not move from off the crisp painted yellow hashes repeating down the blackened strait, for fear the motor and tires would not carry out the job quick, painless. Why prolong, complicate the inevitable outcome and only award yourself more misery? Why run? She told me, run!—get as far away from me as you can, please! But my withering, breathing corpse almost longed for him to finish the job. There was a reason I was so terrible in every meeting, every proposal—I would choke down the anxiety and apprehension, mind my papers and notes as the world spun spiritedly around me. Why make things more difficult? Do what you're told!

The headlights played against the black ice stretched out between us. I could feel the faint, entrancing rumble of the earth as twelve valves fired in turn, five hundred horses pounding in my head. Faster, faster, I beseeched the backs of my eyelids. It wouldn't be long now, yet each moment felt nigh endless. I whispered to myself—I couldn't remember what I said as I said it, and the cloying noise snuffed my words from the air anyways. Just a few seconds now. One… two… three… four…

A screech of rubber as the vehicle stopped sent both relief and anxiety through me. Maybe it isn't him, I granted a rush of optimism through into to my conscious thoughts. Yeah right. He wasn't a disconnected fellow; he wasn't afraid of getting his hands dirty. The past four years with the firm taught me that. I only hoped that it wouldn't prove to be this literal. Maybe I could talk my way out of it. Maybe I could plead for my life. Maybe he would offer me the courtesy of a quick death.

I could hear the driver's door open, a pair of heavy feet meeting the ground and making their way around the vehicle. The steps were calm, strong, reverberating softly in my ears. The question of identity died—I knew how he carried himself. I knew the sound of those shoes hitting the floor; they were worth half my annual salary. He always made sure to remind me of that, smiling vaguely while he chewed on a toothpick. I did my best to avoid those one-on-one conversations with him; they only assured me of how replaceable I was. If he never contemplated my worth before, he did now.

"Hello, Johnny," The man's voice cut loud and clear through winter's white noise. "Funny running into you out here!"

He thought he was clever. I'm sure he was, but my brain was stuck on other things. Like the serrated scars atop his glistening bald head, shining under the light of the moon. The cold metal school ring from some prestigious university sitting on his right index—its setting like a brutal razor fixed to his large fist. Maybe it was just a gem. All I knew is how badly it would hurt if it found my flesh. So would his knuckles though, or the soles of his shoes. I was picking at bloody semantics at this point; musing over my demise. Paper or plastic. Beretta or .44 Mag. What does it matter?

"Get up! For Christ's sake, you look like a dead hooker." He reached down and grabbed my arm, helping me to my feet.

My legs ached under the strain, but I shuffled over to the car and steadied myself against the grill. Steam poured off the hood, heated from his furious pursuit. The warmth sunk into my outstretched limbs. It changed nothing, but the pleasant temperature offered me some solace amidst my misery. I felt his hand brush up against my back, giving me what should have been a friendly pat. Under the circumstances, it felt like the gesture marked me for death.

"I-I didn't know sir. I wasn't thinking, I—"

His powerful arms broke my rambling apology, sending me to the ground. I kept my eyes towards the road, down to my shaking hands. I couldn't rend my gaze away to meet his face. His cool façade was terrifying enough; now he threw me aside. He was furious.

"I don't like to waste time, Johnny," He knelt down beside me, but I dare not return eye contact. "You understand that, right?"

I nodded, the rest of my body stiff as a board.

"Good, I'm glad we're on the same page." He might have smiled, but I kept looking away. "So now that we're… connecting, let's get something clear."

My neck ached in the grip of his fleshy talon, pulled upwards and shoved up against the powder-coated steel. Sputtered rushes of air squeezed down my windpipe and into my lungs. His angered vision bore down on me. I felt as if I might disappear I was so small, but that would have been far too easy. His lips opened to speak; I could smell the stench of expensive cigars in each enraged breath. The image blurred under lack of oxygen and the nauseating aroma. I almost struggled against him, but that would have only complicated a situation already lethal. Submission was my only ally.

"I like you, Johnny," He smirked, leaning in so close that I could feel the heat emanating from his sweaty skin. "You keep your mouth shut and you do your job. That's exactly what I like in a peon like you! But see, you forgot your place. You messed up."

The moon shone bright and clear through the refracting snow. A glimmer of steel flickered at my peripheral. What is that? A moment later I found out; the wicked, pointed tip of a stiletto rest viciously against my throat. I swallowed hard and my Adam's apple shifted against the tip, a trickle of cherry running down to my collarbone. If my mind was racing before, now it was in a dead sprint. The slightest press of his grip and I'd be breathing through two holes. The fact that he was toying with me only made everything worse. If I was to die, so be it. Standing there, my extremities beginning to numb with cold, my mortality decided by a thin shaft of steel; a haunting limbo enraptured me. Just do it.

"Like I said, I like you, but I can't ignore this one." He seemed to shrug, the casualness of his expression sending me into further panic. "I'd say you're fired, but that would be cheesy."

He offered me a nod, as if saying "so long", his grip on the weapon's handle suddenly firm. This was it—I was dead. A shift of motion, a marriage of steel and sinew, and I would no longer have to worry about my fatal mistake. I wouldn't have to worry about anything. I wasn't afraid to die, but the pain—the pain to come was horrifying to imagine. What would it feel like to be skewered like this? These were no quiet, musing thoughts—these were crippling. How can this be happening? I don't want this.

I'm not sure what happened next. A cornered animal; no matter how small, no matter how weak; could be deadly. I shoved and kicked; I grabbed his arm and redirected the deadly point away from my neck and somewhere towards his body. He bellowed in pain and threw me with all his strength. My bare skin rolled along the pavement, but I couldn't have cared less about the damage. I freed myself from his grip—his murderous intent. I barely stopped to catch my footing, the carried momentum driving me into the pitch dark tree-line again. I still couldn't see a thing, but the alternative was far worse.

I held my hands out before me, groping wildly through the meshwork of branches and leaves as I tore through the darkness. Is he behind me? Turning to check wasn't worth the risk, and so I ran, just like before, tirelessly through the forest. I could see light from behind me—a flashlight probably. I wasn't alone, but I kept up my furious pace. I would run and run, forever if I had to. I wouldn't let him kill me. I did nothing wrong!

What had come over me? I had resigned myself to my inevitable fate. All I wanted was for it to end. Was I weak? Was I afraid? All those things sung true, but as I lay cradled on Death's doorstep, everything changed. A violent catalyst to shift my mindset, and oh how it shifted. I would claw and bite and fight for my life. The surety of that wailed like sirens in my skull. I would tear him apart before letting him so much as touch me.

I had changed.

"You're only making this harder for yourself, Johnny!" His voice echoed through the tangled forestry. "Just lay down and die like a good boy."

His words were deaf on my ears. I barely flinched as the reverb of a shotgun sounded out. He could chase and scream and shoot—I didn't care. He was no longer in control; I was. My shoulder smashed into a tree and I tumbled to the dirt, but my feet were instantly beneath me again. Pain forsook me, reason fled, only survival pulsed through my veins. Nothing existed but my legs and my freedom. Nothing, no one, no man could stop me.

Another boom resounded through the woods, timber beside me exploding in raining splinters. I could see dull light on the horizon now. Distance set my pursuer far behind me; I just needed to keep moving. The forest was running out. Just a few more seconds and…

I burst from the woodland maw, leaves in my hair and mud between my toes. Lunar light shimmered along the new highway, but I spared no time to examine the desolate road. I sprung from the mire, my dirtied feet hitting the asphalt again without slowing down. I left my hunter far behind, and I would not stop now. The next dark veil of foliage lay before me, welcoming me in my flight like loving, concealing arms. I sped towards the dense wall of shadowed green.

I never made it.

The bumper met my legs with crushing force. My body became a rag-doll, hurled upwards and into a curtain of unyielding glass. I could hear the snickering shatter, a prickling wash of cricks and cracks playing against my eardrums as flecks like razors sunk into my skin. Pain rushed through one of my legs as I came to rest on a bed of flexing steel. I heard a scream; a woman. Where was my enemy? Is it over?

The door opened. Someone exited the vehicle and came to my side. I could feel the heat from the engine, the softness of the woman's hands as she laid them on my broken body and wept. It all felt so familiar. It all felt so right. She took my hands in hers and I rolled to my side, a trail of crimson running across my eyes. I could hardly see, but her golden hair spoke to me softly in the paling light. Her fingertips raveled with mine, she leant over me and let out heavy sobs.

"I love you, Johnny."

I could feel nothing but the touch of her lips, wrapped in a canopy of her golden locks. The clouds rolled past and draped the moon, just as the coldness overtook my core. Letting out a breath, only four words could I have chosen.

"I... love you—"