My breath clouds the air as I run. Footsteps sound on the pavement and pieces of rock fly up. All I can think about is getting away. The voices in my head scream to be noticed, but I refuse to give them the satisfaction. Memories fight to fill the silence, and I push them back down. I focus on my breathing. Every two steps, breathe in, take one step, breathe out. My coach would be amazed at my form. Too bad I don’t plan on seeing her again. My pace evens out and I fall into a steady rhythm, making sure to keep my eyes ahead. It would be quite unfortunate for me to survive the past sixteen years, only to be decimated by a pickup truck.
After about an hour of a gruesome pace, I start to slow down to save myself from collapsing. I can’t stop though, that would be the end of happiness as I know it. While passing by a dilapidated neighborhood, my legs start wobbling, and my once steady breathing now comes out in short pants. I will myself to run just a bit further before my legs give out. I hit the ground hard, mud spraying all over my white t-shirt. I curse whatever ethereal being is out there and lay stiffly. My whole body shakes as I lay with the worms peeking out of the earth. The chance to catch my breath is a blessing in disguise, however much my mind disagrees.
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