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I Run. I Run. All I Ever Do Is Run.
No matter where I run he finds me. I try to make sure that there is always someone around. Someone who sees me even if they don’t see him. I want to be safe but there is no being safe. There’s just being one step ahead. There’s our running him on the road where I duck and dodge cars trying to escape. Trying to get away.
There’s being in crowds, at parties even, where I watch, duck, elude. But I can never get away. He’s always there chasing me, trying to catch me. Sometimes I can tell by the look on his face that I’ve made a move he hadn’t anticipated and it pisses him off even more. In his mind, he was this close to catching me. This time was going to be the time only to have me get away yet again. Just within inches.
Now I’m trapped. I manage to make my way to a room on the second floor of a house. Now in retrospect, it’s the farmhouse I grew up in. Empty. Abandoned. How did I get here? Why didn’t I see it? I lock myself in one of the bedrooms. I know he’ll kick the door in. The lock isn’t secure. The door isn’t safe. There’s no way out. No way out except a bedroom window.
I gently peel back a white sheer and quietly ease open a window. I don’t want to tip him off on what I plan on doing. I climb out onto the slanted roof holding on with one hand to the window sill so I won’t fall. And I wait. I have it laid out in my mind. The…
