I run down the empty street, feet bruising as they pound the pavement. There are tears streaming uncontrollably down my face, and my lungs are screaming as I heave and I gasp and I hiccup all the oxygen I possibly can. Despite my efforts, I feel as though I’m suffocating, feel as though I’m drowning. My eyes, though blurred by tears, are locked wide open- constantly searching and scanning the dark shadows and crevices that whizz by as I go.

My heart pounds in my throat.

Sweat drips down my brow.

I can feel my teeth buzzing like a hive of angry bees nested in my gums.

I have no feeling in my fingers.

But I can’t stop.

If I stop that means I die too.

From a distance I can hear the sound of their shrill, panicked shouts. They’re upset, I can tell from the tone of their voices that cut sharper than knives that they are not pleased I got away.

Panic spurrs me on as the volume of their yells grows louder and louder with every step. With a newfound spark of fear I decide to dart left, hoping and praying with everything in me that it puts them further off my tail.

I can’t let them catch up.

I can’t let them catch me.

My hands, already slick with a sickening combination of blood and sweat grasp a pipe on the wall in preparation to turn right down an even smaller alley. Just as I turn, however, I’m horrified as I collide with something hard. Not just something, though, no. Someone. Arms grasp my own before I can dart away.

My heart sinks.

I can’t help the tears that run like a river as I begin struggling against their unrelenting hold. I beg and cry and plead with them to spare me. I tell them I’ll do anything if they just let me go.

I don’t want to die.

I thrash and cry and hiccup and sob like there is no tomorrow- for me, I realize, there might not be one. Suddenly, without warning, their hold is no longer as tight and I finally begin to register the words this stranger has been trying to tell me.

“Rys, look at me. I’m not going to hurt you, just look at me, please.”

The voice is soft but deep, and it’s one I definitely know. My eyes dart to his face, and though it’s dark out, I can make out the features of someone I know well. Someone I had just watched die in front of me. I begin to sob as relief floods through me.

Though his hold is light, I throw myself into him, pressing my palms to his back to make sure he’s not just a figment of my imagination. I need to know if he’s really alive.

I laugh incredulously as he returns my embrace. I can feel his breath rise and fall under my palms. Somehow, he survived a fatal gunshot wound. I didn’t ask how, I didn’t even need to know. All that mattered was that he’s alive.

He’s alive.

“Come on, I know a place we can wait out the night.”

I nodded, and without a word broke from our embrace to take his hand. Finally, I can breathe.

We’re going to be ok.